


Locked Away

by YouCantKeepMeDown



Series: Mafia Archangels [13]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: (at least if I do my job right), (it doesn't work too well), Alternate universe - Mafia, Bartender Dean Winchester, Blow Jobs, Breathplay, Doctor Adam Milligan, Everyone Is Gay, Ex-cop Sam, Graphic Description of Murder, Illegal Activities, Mobster Lucifer, Mobster Michael, Mortician Billie, Multi, Murder, Murder Investigations, Murder as coping mechanism, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Prison, Rooting for the bad guys, Samifer pining, Smoking, Stripper Sam, Trans Raphael, archangel brotherly feels, basically all of them have a body count, except maybe Adam, or Bi, well sibling-y since Raphael is a girl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-21
Updated: 2018-10-27
Packaged: 2019-04-25 19:56:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 28
Words: 52,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14386008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YouCantKeepMeDown/pseuds/YouCantKeepMeDown
Summary: When Lucifer and Castiel spring Cas’ friend Balthazar out of prison, Lucifer meets an old "friend" that he has unfinished business with and leaps at the chance to kill him. Unfortunately that gets him caught. The rest of the Archangels, together with Sam and Dean, start working on getting him out again immediately, but it’s not easy and requires a few cases of murder. (Well, you know, the usual.) That again catches the attention of mortician Billie and her friend resident doctor Adam Milligan.And Michael starts to wonder how many more brothers his boyfriend Dean might turn out to have that just can’t keep their noses out of the Archangel’s business. Can they at least just kill this one? But of course Dean won’t have that, so they somehow have to get Adam and Billie on their side.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, guys, this is going to be longer. New chapters will be posted every Saturday for now, unless I realize I'm writing fast enough for bi-weekly updates. We'll see.
> 
> Some other things:
> 
> This is marked **Explicit** , because there will be sex at some point, but if you're here for the porn, you might be disappointed. It'll take quite a while until we get there. Also, some of the explicit sex will be between fem!Raphael and Billie (just saying in case there are people here that only want all the gay when it's between two dudes). I'll warn for everything at the beginning of every chapter (cliffhangers included) so you can skip things you don't like.
> 
>  **Samifer Shippers** : As the tags say, this may turn into Sabrifer at some point. I'm not sure yet, that's why Sabrifer isn't tagged so far. I can guarantee, though, that it won't be Sam and Gabriel hooking up while Lucifer is in prison or some crap like that. There'll be lots of Samifer m.f.e.o. feels and Gabriel will be a bonus if anything. Samifer is my OTP, I promise I'll treat them well.
> 
>  **Michaen Shippers** : First of all, I love you, but the relationship between Dean and Michael in this story is already established and not the focus of the story. They will get their own chapters, though, and their own emotional arc. Michael will also get a lot of big brother moments.
> 
>  **Megstiel Shippers** : Megstiel will probably only make an appearance in the first chapter and then become a background ship that only gets mentioned now and then. You can read the first chapter as a stand alone Megstiel story, though, if you want to opt out after that.
> 
> This story is part of the [Mafia Archangels Series](https://archiveofourown.org/series/891393), in case you haven't noticed. You can read it on it's own, I guess, but if you want to know how they all met and all that, you should start at the beginning.
> 
> And now I'm done blabbering. Big thanks go to my beta readers Coplins, Askatosch and Brieflymaximumprincess (who also helped with the French in this chapter).

Meg watches, while the prison guards take apart the box of chocolates she brought, sardonic smile firmly on her face to hide that she’s a tiny bit nervous about this. They’re thorough, lift the plastic part in which all the pieces sit, to look underneath it. Make sure there is no false bottom. They unwrap one of the pieces to check if it’s really chocolate. It is. One of the guards moves to put it in his mouth.

Meg lifts a finger. “Eh, eh! I brought this for my boyfriend. If you’re lucky and nice, he shares with you later, but this is a present and I’ll get it to him in all the pieces!”

To her relief, the guard actually obeys, wraps the chocolate again and puts it back. “Alright, ma’am,” he says. “You’re good to go.”

“Thank you.” With another smile and a wink she steps past him and enters the visitors part of the prison.

* * *

Balthazar, Castiel’s friend, is kind of handsome, she thinks. Or maybe it’s just that he gets led into the room in handcuffs. That makes everyone a bit hotter in her eyes. She smiles at him and he looks a bit confused for a moment, before he smiles back. There had been no way of telling him that she’d show up posing as his girlfriend, but Cas had assured them that Balthazar would play along.

“Ah,” he says, while they push him into the chair opposite her, “it’s you. Can you believe that they thought I was making a joke, when I asked them which of my girlfriends was here? No one else has shown up yet, though. I guess that’s not a good sign. My heart has been broken. Several times. I’m glad at least someone is loyal.” He says it all with barely a pause for air and a smile on his face. Meg decides she likes him.

“Of course I’ll always love you, honey.” She tries to make it sound sincere, but she’s aware that everything she says sounds a bit sarcastic most of the time. Hopefully it’s enough.

“Ah, that’s balm for my broken heart, dear. I love you too, mon petit papillon.” He shoots her a wink and then it’s on. The guards have stepped back to the door, but they’re still in the room and can hear every word they say. So the goal is to make them mentally check out, before any important information is conveyed. They try to trump each other with ridiculous nicknames and then switch to talking about kinky sex they supposedly had. Meg uses it as an excuse to lean closer and lower her voice. “Those handcuffs really suit you, you know?” she purrs.

Balthazar grins and lifts both eyebrows, then drops his own voice to a whisper. “I’m starting to wish you really were my girlfriend. I’d let you tie me up.”

“Sorry, Bartleby. Not sure how much Castiel would like that.”

When she mentions the name of his friend, Balthazar’s whole face lights up. “Oh, I wouldn’t put it beyond him to like it. Do you have a message from him?”

Meg grins and keeps the flirtatious tone of voice, while she slides the box of chocolates over. “He’s sending his regards. You should only eat the ones in the lower left corner. Generously share the rest with the guards and your cellmate.”

“Oh, I’m touched, Choupinette. You shouldn’t have!”

“Anything for you, sweetie.”

They sweet talk a bit longer, and when Meg leaves, she’s pretty sure that Balthazar has a good idea about what the plan for tonight is and what he’s supposed to do. The guards look like they’re glad to get rid of her.

* * *

“Does it have to be Castiel?” Lucifer’s voice can be heard outside of Michael’s office in the archangel villa. For a moment Dean debates, if he really should enter. Watching the two oldest Archangels fight is never fun. But he has news that may even help to lighten the mood. So he opens the door.

“What’s wrong with Castiel? I thought you said he’s doing well with every task we give him.” Michael is sitting behind his desk, Lucifer is pacing in front of it. Sam had apparently been right, and the guy really is a bit antsy about the prison break that’s supposed to happen soon. Dean hadn’t expected someone with a body count as high as Lucifer’s to worry about getting someone out of prison. But shooting people is probably more straightforward.

When Dean steps in, his boyfriend greets him with a smile and gestures for him to wait.

“Yes, of course, he’s doing great.” Lucifer doesn’t even look at Dean. “But apparently the shock of almost getting himself killed has worn off by now, and …” He gestures in an exasperated way. “He has no respect at all! He always has his own ideas about how things are supposed to be done. He doesn’t follow orders he thinks are stupid. He rolls his fucking eyes at me!”

Dean grins. That sounds like Cas. 

There’s an amused twinkle in Michael’s eyes, too. He leans back in his chair. “And that doesn’t sound familiar to you at all?”

Lucifer blinks at him. “What do you mean?”

“No respect,” Michael says. “Has his own ideas. Doesn’t follow orders well. Really, Lucifer? You know no one else who does that?”

By now Dean is snickering, which gets him an angry side glance from Lucifer.

“He’s nothing like me!” The second oldest Archangel protests after a while.

Michael lifts an eyebrow in that way Dean likes, because it makes him look like the badass mafia boss he is. For a moment, there’s silence, then Lucifer huffs. “Do I absolutely have to work with him?”

“Yes,” Michael says. “We’re getting his friend out of prison, he should be part of it.”

Lucifer hmpfs. “Fine. But if he does anything that endangers the mission, I’m going to shoot him.”

“Suit yourself. You’re the one who’ll have to explain that to Meg,” Michael says without the slightest change of expression.

Dean isn’t quite sure, if they’re joking, but he hopes they do. He kinda likes Cas by now, even though his customers would probably not be sad to never see the guy again.

“You could also try and explain your orders. Convince him, they’re a good idea. That always works with you.”

“He’s nothing like–” Lucifer interrupts himself and throws Michael a bitchface that Dean is almost sure he got from Sam. “Whatever. Fuck you.” With that he walks out.

As soon as Lucifer slams the door after him, Dean can’t keep the grin off his face any longer. “Little brothers,” he says. “Always a joy.”

That makes Michael smile. “Such a joy. And what do you have for me, Dean?”

Dean walks around the desk, the papers he brought clearly visible in his hands. “Do I have to have a reason to come and see you?”

Michael’s eyes flick towards the papers for a moment, but when Dean puts those to the side and half sits on the desk in front of Michael, his boyfriend looks back at him. “Do I need to take a break from work?”

“You always do.” Dean leans down to steal a kiss. When he tries to straighten up again, Michael grabs the front of his shirt and kisses him back thoroughly. Only when Dean’s head is spinning a bit, does he let go.

“Tell me one thing, though,” Michael says. “Is it good news?”

Dean grins and lets his legs fall apart in case Michael wants to come a bit closer. “It totally is. It’s about prison guard Harvey.” The guy comes to Dean’s bar now and then and Dean has done his best to become his friend. By now Harvey is bitching to him about work all the time.

“That sounds very good.” Michael shoves his chair back a bit and gets up to step between Dean’s legs. He leans in, placing his hands on the desktop on both sides of Dean.

Dean wraps his arms around his boyfriend. “Mhm. We collected every scrap of what he said about his colleagues – we, that is Sasha and me. And yesterday night we sat and put it all together and I think we have a pretty good idea about when the shift changes happen and how many people there usually are. Not to mention their habits and where they spend the most time.”

Michael smiles. “Very good work.”

“Of course. I’m awesome.”

“Can’t argue with that.”

* * *

Meg hates waiting. Which means that of course she’s the one stuck with being the escape route, keeping the getaway car ready. To have something to do she mentally goes through the plan again.

The chocolates have been filled with a drug that makes you sleepy and dulls your senses. It won’t knock anyone out, just make sure there’s a bunch of drowsy guards that are easier to handle. Hopefully a lot of them have eaten Balthazar’s gift.

Lucifer and Castiel are getting in via the van of the guy who brings food every night so there’s breakfast for the inmates. That guy hadn’t been hard to bribe, he’s barely making a living wage.

As if that’s their cue, there’s a bit of static in the receiver in Meg’s ear and then she hears Lucifer’s voice: _“We’re in.”_ So that part worked out.

Now they’ll have to sneak past half-asleep guards.

 _“This way.”_ Lucifer’s voice again.

 _“Are you sure?”_ That’s Castiel.

_“I swear, one day I’m going to stab you. Or I could rig you with explosives and make you go splat. That could be fun, too.”_

Meg sighs. Of course they’ll do that while bickering. _“Boss,”_ she says, _“if you have to fantasize about killing my boyfriend, could you at least not do so out loud?”_

That makes Lucifer snicker. _“Where’s the fun in that?”_

For a while there is silence, though. Then Lucifer again: _“Me right, you left.”_

_“Alright.”_

After that there’s only a word here and there to convey information as fast as possible. Meg imagines them knocking out some already drowsy guards.

 _“Lucifer, catch.”_ The jingle of keys.

For two guys that bicker relentlessly, they’re working surprisingly well together.

 _“No, not that way. This way is faster.”_ Lucifer again.

 _“How do you know?”_ Meg smiles at how irritated Castiel sounds.

_“Can’t you just accept that I know?”_

_“I’d like to know how accurate your information is.”_

_“That’s a fancy way of implying that I’m ill prepared.”_

_“As far as I know, your brother has tried to procure a groundplan and failed.”_

_“I don’t need a groundplan, I’ve spent quite some time here.”_

_“Oh. I didn’t know.”_

_“No shit.”_

Meg hadn’t known that either. And judging by how grumpy Lucifer sounds, the memories the place stirs up aren’t good. That explains a lot. Among other things it explain why Lucifer was sent for this mission, even though it’s a comparably low-level job. He’s the only one who knows the layout, since it had been made sure that Balthazar and Castiel would get seperated and Castiel had served time in a different prison.

 _“Alright”_ , Lucifer finally says. _“Here we go.”_

* * *

Castiel holds his breath, when Lucifer unlocks the cell door, half convinced that this is too good to be true and it won’t be Balthazar waiting for them on the other side. He’s still worried that he made the wrong decision by putting his trust in his cousins instead of the FBI. That Balthazar will suffer the consequences of that. But then the door swings open and there’s his friend looking up from a book. On the other bunk his cellmate is snoring peacefully. “That took you long enough.”

“Oh great.” Out of the corner of his vision Castiel can see Lucifer roll his eyes. “Now I have two snarky assholes.”

“Oh no.” Balthazar gets up and walks towards them with a smile on his lips. “I was talking to Cassie here. Whoever you are, I’m very grateful for getting me out.” He gives Lucifer a once over that Castiel knows way to well.

“No flirting, Balthazar.”

Lucifer grins. “Well, that’s more like it. Now let’s catch our ride back.” He still looks uneasy, though. If Castiel hadn’t known that Lucifer was in a relationship with a man he would’ve put it down to Balthazar hitting on him. But as it is, there seems to be something else wrong. Now that he thinks of it, Lucifer had been extra grumpy the whole time.

Still, he says nothing and follows.

* * *

Lucifer’s skin is crawling with how much he hates this place. He hides it behind as much sass as possible, but his hair is standing on end and now and then he thinks he can hear a door falling shut, see the lights getting darker, hear Alastair’s voice. This shouldn’t still be haunting him, but there it is.

That’s why when Alastair is suddenly standing before them Lucifer thinks he’s maybe just seeing things at first. “Hello, Nick,” the guard says. “Didn’t expect to see you back.”

Of course he hasn’t eaten from Balthazar’s gift. He probably never eats anything sweet. It’s debatable, if he actually ever eats.

“Cassandra,” Lucifer says, eyes intently on Alastair. He probably couldn’t look away, if he wanted to. “Get your friend out of here. Take the corridor to the left, then right, then you’re back to where we started.”

“We should stay together,” Castiel protests.

“No we shouldn’t, trust me.”

Lucifer expects another protest, but there must’ve been something in his voice that makes Castiel obey. He hears footsteps receding, then he and Alastair are alone.

“You know,” the guard says, “when I saw it was you, I came here alone for old times sake. I mean, backup will be here soon and your friend’s won’t get away either, but until then we can have a bit of fun, can’t we?”

“Oh yes, we will.” Lucifer doesn’t go for a gun, but for his knife. He wants to hear the fucker scream. “Because you know what? I’ve learned a lot since then.”

With that he lounges.

In the end he does hear Alastair scream.

* * *

Meg hates waiting even more, when she knows things are going wrong. That’s why she heaves a huge sigh of relief, when she sees two figures running towards her car. There’s no sign of the food van anywhere, which is another thing that didn’t go as planned, because it had been supposed to be their way out, too. But they’re out. That’s all that counts.

Except that Lucifer is missing.

Castiel opens the passenger door and drops on the passenger seat. Balthazar does the same in the back of the car. “I shouldn’t have allowed him to stay back,” Castiel says without preamble.

Meg starts the car. “You can’t allow him anything, he was the one giving the orders.”

“I should’ve–”

Meg leans over, roughly kisses him on the mouth. “You did what you were supposed to do. Now shut up, Clarence.”

He does until she starts driving away. “Aren’t we waiting for him?” he asks. “Maybe there’s still a chance he–”

“He isn’t coming,” Meg interrupts him. She’s heard all of Alastair’s screams and then the shouts of the other guards.

“Is he–”

“No, they arrested him I think.”

“Shit.” Castiel drags his hands over his face.

“It’s not your fault. You give the big boss your report and then he’ll deal with it. Everything will be alright. Don’t get your panties in a twist.” While she’s speaking those words, there’s an icy lump in her throat and she too can’t shake the feeling that she failed her boss somehow.

“Bad timing maybe,” comes Balthazar’s voice from the back. “But I’ve found the best way to deal with a mess is lots of alcohol and … you know ... maybe a ménage à trois? So care to go for a drink later? The three of us?”

The hope in his voice startles a laugh out of Meg. “Aren’t you smooth?”

“I’m on board with a lot of alcohol,” Castiel says.

That makes Meg grin. “I’m on board with whatever as soon as we’ve put the unpleasantness that is our report behind us.”

* * *

Sam can’t sleep. He barely ever can, when Lucifer is on a mission. And by now it’s way past the time he’s supposed to be back. So Sam is sitting in front of the TV and zapping through news channels.

“... Purgatory Prison,” a news anchor says, and Sam stops half way to pushing another button. That’s it. “The man brutally butchered a guard with a knife and was arrested shortly after. One inmate got away. It’s still unclear, if he had more help in his escape, since all security footage has been deleted due to a failure in the system that probably occurred as a side effect of a power cut later this night.”

Someone got arrested? That can’t be Lucifer. Lucifer is one of the most capable criminals Sam knows. Lucifer doesn’t get caught. And why would he stop to murder a guard? Though why would Castiel stop and murder a guard for that matter? Had anyone else been part of that mission?

The sound of a key in the lock of the front door makes Sam jump to his feet. This must be Lucifer and he probably has a hell of a story to tell. He runs into the hallway to greet him.

It’s Dean who steps in, though. His hair is a mess as if he only just got out of bed, and he’s carrying a bottle of whiskey. “Hey, Sammy. Now don’t look so disappointed to see me.”

“I’m sorry,” Sam says, worry twisting his gut. “It’s just … In the news … I …”

“I know. That’s why Mike woke me up to check on you.” He lifts the bottle. “And I thought you might need this.”

Now Sam feels sick. “So he really got arrested.”

“Yeah, but they’re already working on getting him out.” Dean does his reassuring big brother smile and pats his shoulder. “Don’t worry about it. It’s only a matter of time.”

Of course he’s right about that. If anyone can get someone out of prison who had been caught red handed at a murder, it’s the Archangels. Sam relaxes a little bit. “But why?” he still asks. “Why did he murder that guard?”

Dean shrugs. “Beats me. Something Mike doesn’t like to talk about, that’s all I got. I’m sure we’ll get more answers tomorrow.”

Sam doesn’t want answers tomorrow, he wants answers now. Though he settles for a glass of whiskey in the end. What else is he going to do than wait?


	2. In the Cage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Lucifer settles in (or not so much)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's start with some angst and a bit of violence.

The cell door slams shut behind him, and Lucifer practically feels his connection to the outside world getting seperated. It hurts almost physically. The air in here instantly seems to turn stale. For a moment he can’t breathe, and his fingers dig into the neatly folded bed sheets and the towel they gave him. He can hear his own heart hammering in his ears, and it drowns out every other sound.

“The upper bunk is mine,” a voice cuts through the sound of his own blood pumping. “You’ll have to take the lower one.”

He blinks and forces himself to take a swallow breath. The guy leaning against the steel frame bunk bed is almost as tall as Lucifer and padded in a way that probably hides muscles under a layer of fat. His grin shows a missing teeth and his nose looks like it has been broken at least once.

Despite all this, Lucifer feels himself relax. This is a threat he can deal with. “How old do you think I am? Five? I honestly don’t care.”

He walks towards the bed to throw his things on it, but is stopped by a hand on his shoulder, before he gets there. He looks up and into the guys face that’s serious now. “There are just a few rules for us to get along.”

Lucifer lifts an eyebrow. Just judging by his cellmates attitude he’s pretty sure they won’t get along, but who is he to stop someone from talking who obviously likes to listen to their own voice?

“You don’t mouth off to me,” the guy goes on. “You don’t mess with my stuff. You move out of the way when you’re told to.”

Yup, they definitely won’t get along at all. Lucifer smiles in a way that’s nothing but teeth. “I think I already broke the first one, didn’t I? I’m sorry, I’m bad with rules.”

His cellmate grabs him tighter and shoves him against the ladder of the bed. The air gets forced out of Lucifer’s lungs and the metal steps of the ladder dig into his back. Definitely a lot of muscle underneath that padding.

“I don’t like people that think they’re funny.” The grip on Lucifer’s shoulder turns painful and his cellmate’s stance shifts slightly, ready to strike. Oh, well.

“I can imagine. I’m sure a lot of jokes fly over your head.” While he talks, he throws his sheets in his cellmate’s face. When the guy reels back a little, Lucifer swings, punches him in the guts. Once. Twice. When his cellmate doubles over, he gets a knee to the face, and there’s the sound of bones breaking. Well, that nose is probably used to it. The guy stumbles back, and Lucifer helps by pushing him, until his back hits the opposite wall. Lucifer shoves him against it, his forearm pressing against his cellmate’s throat.

“There’s just one rule for getting along with me,” he hisses. “Leave me the fuck alone!”

He keeps his hold a moment longer while blood flows out of his cellmate’s nose. Then he lets go and steps back. Now, with the adrenaline coursing through his body, he breathes easier. The walls don’t seem quite as close, the air not quite as stale. He can do this. He’ll miss Sam like hell, but Michael will not abandon him here like their father did. Michael will get him out soon. He can wait.

When Lucifer bends to collect his things again, he expects another attack, but none comes. He doesn’t get disturbed either while he puts his sheets on the mattress. When he flops back onto the bed, he finds his cellmate watching him with hatred in his eyes, dabbing at his bloody nose with his sleeve. But he keeps away for now. Lucifer shoots him a less than friendly smile and finds himself hoping they’ll clash again rather sooner than later.

Because at lightout, he has trouble breathing again. He flinches every time there are footsteps outside the door, thinks he hears Alastair calling for him. “Nick! Nicky! Did you get yourself into trouble again?”

The fucker is dead, though. Lucifer takes a deep breath and concentrates on the memory of his knife slicing through Alastair’s flesh, on the memory of his screams. It was worth it. And Michael will get him out of here soon.

Michael won’t abandon him. He won’t.


	3. Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which plans are made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since I'm somewhere with barely any internet connection, I'm posting this earlier. Just in case I have no internet connection at all tomorrow.
> 
> So, let's see what Sam has to say about the situation.

Sam has never expected his life to lead to a point where he’s sitting in the backroom of a shady bar with high ranking members of the mob. And technically the bar isn’t that shady, it’s Dean’s, but in terms of organized crime you can’t get any more high ranking than the Archangels around here.

Apart from them and Sam and Dean the only other person present is Alexandr Chaadayev, or Sasha, Dean’s silver haired and silver eyed bodyguard. He’s keeping in the background near the door and it’s easy to forget he’s there. Which is quite a feat for a big guy with an interesting hair and eye color.

Dean is handing out bottles of beer, but no one seems to really take notice. Gabriel is busy typing away on a small laptop, half of a sour stripe hanging forgotten in the corner his mouth. Raphael is alternating between looking over his shoulder and answering questions from Michael in a low voice. Michael is standing at the head of the table, both hands flat on the surface. He’s in what Dean calls his godfather mode, and the name really kind of fits.

Sam takes his beer just to have something for his hands to do, but doesn’t drink it. When Dean sits next to him, Michael clears his throat.

“As you all know, Lucifer got arrested. He’s currently in Purgatory prison waiting for his trial. Apparently every other prison was full. He’ll be charged with breaking and entering into state property, assistance in the escape of a prisoner, and murder. There’s no way to dispute that he killed the guard in question. Several people saw him with the bloody knife in his hand.”

He looks around the room, before he continues. “He’s in prison under the name of Nick Shurley and so far no one has made the connection to him being one of the archangels, but that’s only a matter of time.”

“I’m doing my best to prevent them from ever finding out, thank you very much.” Gabriel takes the sour stripe out of his mouth and vaguely gestures towards his laptop with it. “They don’t have much on us anyway, just a few blurry pictures Sammy’s boss collected and a lot of leads that don’t go anywhere. Since Henricksen is dead, no one really worked the case thanks to my humble skills and a few well places bribes.”

Sam barely flinches at the reminder that he shot Chief Henricksen. All the guilt about it has gone dull by now like a scabbed over wound.

Michael nods to his brother in thanks and then turns to his sister. “We can’t get Lucifer out the same way we did with Castiel’s friend.” It’s half a question, half a statement.

Raphael nods. “They doubled security. They also found out how Lucifer and Castiel got in. They’re taking measures for food deliveries to be better supervised now. Guard are also forbidden from eating anything they take from the prisoners or that’s offered to them by visitors.” She rolls her eyes. “Well, technically that had been the rules all along, but now they’re actually following them.”

“In short,” Gabriel says, “our idiot brother walked into a super tightly locked cage almost on purpose, and we still don’t even know why.”

The later question has been bothering Sam for a while now. Lucifer doesn’t murder for the fun of it. Sam could never be with him, if he did. He must’ve had a reason to kill that guard in the way he did. But even if he had, he doesn’t get caught red handed. Why has he acted so stupid? It doesn’t make any sense! And Sam can’t even ask, because whoever is going to visit Lucifer will most likely be questioned. After all the police is still looking for Balthazar and for a motive for Lucifer’s murder. And so far they don’t know anything about Lucifer having a boyfriend, and it’s best to keep it that way. It still hurts, though. Not even being able to see him. When he gets home, the house is empty. His bed is empty. Dean has taken up sleeping at home again, but Sam knows he much rather wants to stay with Michael. And having his brother for company is good for sure, but Sam wants his boyfriend back!

“We can ask him why he did it as soon was we get him out,” Michael says. “And we will get him out, no matter what. Which brings me to something we have to get straight, before we start planning.” For some reason he looks first at Sam and then at Dean, when saying this, and there’s a coldness in his eyes that makes Sam shudder. “This might involve murder. Murder of people that might not deserve to die. So if anyone has any problems with that, they should leave this room now. You don’t have to help, you don’t have to know anything. You just have to keep out of the way.”

“And what my dear brother surely intended to add,” Gabriel says cheerfully. “No one will think less of you for it.”

“Unless you rat us out, in which case we will first think less of you and then kill you,” Raphael says. There’s a faint smile on her face, if you look closely, which confirms what Sam has suspected for a while now. She actually does have a sense of humor. It’s just very well hidden – and pretty dark.

“Woah!” Dean lifts both hands. “Mike, a bit less godfather, please?”

It’s amazing that this actually makes Michael’s face go a bit softer. “This is important, Dean,” he says.

Dean nods. “I get that and we’re with you, okay? You do what you have to do. I’m not gonna murder anyone, but I got your back.”

Maybe Sam is imagining it, but Michael actually relaxes a bit. The next moment, though, Sam find himself of the receiving end of three archangel stares. He takes another big drink from his bottle. “You think I don’t want Lucifer back? Just tell me what to do. I’m on board with whatever.”

Over the table, Dean and Michael exchange one of those concerned big brotherly looks. They do that quite often when he’s in the same room with them recently. Sam wishes they’d stop. He’s fine. They’re working on a plan, aren’t they? So everything will be fine and he’ll be fine, too. 

“Alright,” Michael says. “So the battle plan is as follows. At first, we’ll have to make as many of the charges against Lucifer as possible, disappear. Our best lawyers are on the case already. They think we might be able to work with the fact that no one actually saw Lucifer stab the guard and the fact that most of the guards who caught him were drugged at the time thanks to our little delivery.”

Sam furrows his brows. “That’s pretty thin.”

Michael shoots him an annoyed look for the interruption, but then his eyes go to Dean and he seems to catch himself. “Yes, it is. That’s why we’re not only working with legal means. First of all, the murder weapon will disappear. Raphael, you’re on that. Second, we dig for something we can use against every single witness and against the judge and the prosecution.” He nods to Gabriel, who gives a lazy salute.

“We bribe and blackmail who we can,” Michael goes on. “And make the rest disappear. And we’ll use Castiel’s friend Balthazar as a scapegoat. He needs a new identity anyway.”

Okay, that sounds a bit more solid already. And now Sam knows why Michael was concerned about him or Dean having trouble with this morality wise. This is huge. And it’s a very selfish thing to do, ruining the lives of potentially quite a few people to help one. But then he thinks about maybe never seeing Lucifer again, because a murder like that can very well get you the death sentence … and he can’t bring himself to voice any protests. This may haunt him later just like Henricksen does, but right now Lucifer is sitting in a cell waiting for them to do something. So they’ll do something. And who knows, maybe it’ll all work without much trouble.

“Any questions?” Michael asks. “No? Then get to work.”

* * *

Sam catches Gabriel, before he can leave the bar. He holds the shorter man back by his shoulder, just to see him instantly slip into a fighting stance, when he turns. Sam pulls his hand back fast, takes a step back too. Gabriel always seems so nice and not quite serious. Sometimes it’s easy to forget that he’s as dangerous as his siblings. “Sorry,” Sam says, “I was just wondering, if you have a minute.”

Whiskey colored eyes sparkle, when Gabriel smiles. “Sure.” He nods towards one of the tables near the bar.

They take a seat and Sam makes sure that no one is in hearing distance, before he starts. “So get this … I was thinking, Lucifer wouldn’t kill some random guard in the manner he did with that guy, right?”

Gabriel nods. “Damn right you are.”

Only when Sam breathes a sigh of relief does it occur to him that there maybe have been doubts. “So,” he says. “Why do you think he did it?”

The youngest Archangel shrugs. “Well, he has done some time in that prison before. At least as far as I know it was that one. I was maybe fourteen back then.”

Oh. Sam hadn’t known that. It hadn’t been in Henricksens files either. But now that he knows, he’s getting a very bad feeling about this. “So, you think something happened back then?”

Another shrug. “Not that I know of. And if Mike knew, he would’ve said something by now.”

“So, something happened and he never told anyone? Something so bad he didn’t want to talk about it? And now he’s in that exact same prison again?” This doesn’t sound good at all. Suddenly, Sam is feeling sick.

When Gabriel’s eyes go wide in alarm, Sam knows he understands. The shorter man curses under his breath. “I’ll dig into it.”

Oh no, Sam won’t be sidelined in this. “Let me help!”

Gabriel hesitates for a heartbeat, then he shrugs. “Okay, why not? Let’s work a case together.” He grins, even though there’s still worry in his eyes. “One’s a stripper, one’s a hacker. Together they fight crime.”

Sam rolls his eyes, but he can’t help but smile a bit. “First of all, I’m not actually a stripper and second of all, what we’re doing here is quite the opposite to fighting crime.”

“Okay, well then how about this? One’s an ex-cop, one’s a mob hitman. Together they make sure crime only happens the way they want it.” Gabriel pulls a face. “Not quite the same ring to it.”

“No shit,” Sam says. “Let’s get to work?”

“Already compiling a list of points where we could start digging.” Suddenly, Gabriel’s eyes go past Sam, and he makes a thoughtful face. “And I just got another idea. You know, if Luci told anyone anything, it’s probably Sasha.”

Sam turns to look at the silver haired man who’s sitting at the bar now, keeping a watchful eye on Dean. “You think?”

Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Gabriel nodding. Then there’s the buzz of a cell phone, and Gabriel digs in his pockets until he finds his. He looks at the display and rolls his eyes.

“What?” Sam asks.

Gabriel types something fast, then turns the phone so that Sam can see the display.

 

**Raphael** : No flirting with Lucifer’s boyfriend! Get to work!

**Gabriel** : Not flirting. Though now you’ve given me ideas ;-)

 

When Sam looks up from the display, Gabriel waggles his eyebrows at him in the most exaggerated manner possible.

Sam snorts. “Not happening.”

“Aw, well. In that case, I’d suggest you go talk to Sasha, while I do some of the work Mike has assigned me. And we’ll meet up in the villa later to conspire some more.”

“Sounds good.” When Sam gets up and walks towards the bar to talk to Sasha, the knot of worry in his stomach is still there, but it’s easier to bear now that he has something to do. They’ll get Lucifer out of there. Soon.


	4. Poking Around

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we learn that Lucifer has a dark secret (which shouldn't surprise anyone).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sasha is [Coplin's](https://archiveofourown.org/users/coplins/pseuds/coplins) OC as you all probably know by now. She lent him to me for this story.

Dean hangs back while the others file out of the room. “Mike,” he says, when his boyfriend moves to follow the others.

Michael stops and turns towards him. Judging by the business like questioning look he shoots Dean, he’s still mostly in godfather mode. Dean starts to hate it again. It’s like Michael locks away all the parts he loves, and all that’s left is cold and calculating reason. And Dean gets that it’s easier to deal with everything that way. But the longer Michael stays there the harder it is to get him out of it at the end of the day. Maybe someday the Michael Dean loves will never come back. What’s he going to do then?

“I want to talk to you about Sam,” Dean says. “But not when you’re like that.”

Michael takes a deep breath, and Dean can watch the ice melt from his eyes a little. “It’s hard.”

“I know,” Dean says. “And I get that you’re worried. I’m a big brother, too, okay? But going all Vulcan won’t make it better. Not in the long run.”

Michael huffs, corner of his mouth twitching a little now. “Nerd.”

“Oh no, now you got me confused with my brother.” But at the same time Dean breathes a sigh of relief. There he is. He moves closer, stops right in front of his boyfriend and pulls him in by his hips.

“Which is what you wanted to talk about.” Michael tilts his head a little and makes the statement half sound like a question. “Your brother, I mean.”

“Yeah. It’s just …” Dean starts. “Please don’t let him do anything too dangerous, okay? He’s not in a good headspace right now. He’d probably do anything. Even things he might regret later, you get what I’m saying?”

Michael nods, and for a moment he rests his forehead against Dean’s. “Don’t worry. I know. I won’t ask things of him he hasn’t done before. And I won’t send him anywhere dangerous. I promise.”

“Thank you,” Dean says. For a moment they just stay like this, foreheads touching, breathing in each other’s scent. It’s Dean, who finally, hesitantly, takes a step back. “We probably should get back to work then.”

Michael smiles. “Yes we should.”

* * *

When Dean steps behind the bar again, Sasha takes his usual seat in front of it. By now Dean is used to having a bodyguard. It’s actually nice to see him sitting there, knowing that he’ll have an eye on things. Sasha has resolved fights before they could escalate quite a few times by now. For a mafia killer or whatever he is he’s surprisingly laid back and very good with people. Most of the time it’s a good thing having him around.

It’s a surprise, though, when Sam takes the seat next to Sasha a bit later. “Hey, uhm … Can I ask you a few questions?”

What’s this about? Curious, Dean steps a bit closer.

“Sure,” Sasha says. “I might not answer, but go ahead.”

For a moment Sam sideyes Sasha as if he’s not sure, if he should be offended or not. It makes Dean laugh. “Dude,” he says, “Sasha’s Sam Gamgee levels of loyal. He’s only gonna tell you what he thinks is actually your business.”

That gets him an amused look from his bodyguard. “Eyy, did you just compare me to a hobbit?”

“Well, who knows,” Dean says. “Maybe you got hairy feet.”

Sasha laughs. “Fair enough.” He takes a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, and Dean slides an ashtray over the bar in his direction. “Well,” Sasha mumbles around the cig while he lights it, “what do you want to know?”

Sam takes a look around, and automatically Dean does too. It’s a slow evening, lots of empty tables and only one other patron at the other end of the bar staring into his beer. Still, Sam leans a little closer to Sasha and lowers his voice, so Dean has to strain to hear him. “Did Lucifer ever tell you anything about what happened the first time he was in prison?”

Lucifer had been in prison before? Well, with their lifestyle it shouldn’t be such a surprise, but Dean has always assumed the archangels were too good to get caught.

“Why do you want to know?” Sasha asks, blowing smoke upwards. 

“I want to know, if he had some reason to kill that guard.”

“Of course he had.”

Sam huffs in annoyance. “Yes, but–” He stops, starts again. “Look, we have to find out, if there’s some kind of history between them. If there is, it’ll be harder to argue that Lucifer wasn’t the one who did it. Maybe there’s evidence that needs to go. And Gabriel told me to go ask you, so are you going to be of any help or not?”

Dean feels a bit of pride. That’s his little brother finding just the right thing to say.

Sasha makes a sturgeon face to concede that he has a point. “Fair enough. Not sure, if I know anything actually useful, though.”

“Every detail might help.”

Sasha nods. “Well, if I had to make a bet, I’d say something did happen back then, but it’s all based on little hints, nothing actually solid. Don’t think he talked to anyone about it.”

“Hints such as?” Now Dean is curious, too.

Sasha takes a drag from his cigarette, staring into the middle distance in thought. “Well, it starts with his name.”

Sam furrows his brows. “His name?”

“Oh, yes, he didn’t like the name Lucifer much, when he was younger.”

Dean snorts. “No shit.”

Sasha just ignores him. “Well, ‘didn’t like’ is putting it mildly. He and Gabriel made a fake ID for him when he was 18, that’s how much he didn’t like it. New name Nick Shurley.”

That’s a name Dean has heard before.

“It was a pretty solid one,” Sasha goes on. “Even though Gabriel was only 16 back then. It was good enough that when Lucifer got arrested, they didn’t realize it wasn’t real. So he was in prison as Nick.”

Now it makes sense why Lucifer is listed as Nick this time, too. He would’ve been stupid, if he’d brought an ID with him for breaking Balthazar out, but his fingerprints must’ve been in the system, so he was Nick to them.

“So?” Sam asks. “What’s that to do with anything?”

“I’m getting there, give me some time,” Sasha chides.

Sam lifts both hands in a placating gesture.

“Well, when he came back, he suddenly didn’t want to be called Nick anymore. It was Lucifer all the way, and not long after they came up with that whole archangel thing.” Sasha shrugs. “As I said, it’s not much, but it could be he associated Nick with bad things, yeah? And there are more details like that. He couldn’t be alone in a closed room for a while. He was very adamant that he was not afraid of the dark, but he filled his room with spooky glow-in-the-dark shit obsessively. He was a lot more violent than before, but that’s something prison does to a lot of people. He suddenly took getting better at fighting a lot more seriously, though.”

Sam presses his lips together, and Dean can practically see the gears turning. “You know, if he made any friends in prison?” He finally asks.

Sasha takes another drag from his cigarette. He looks thoughtful, but this time not like he tries to remember something, more like he tries to decide, if he should tell them about this. “Alright,” he says finally. “I’m not sure, if Michael knows about this or should know about this, you get what I’m saying? It doesn’t present any kind of danger to him or one of the others, but it’s something they’d probably fight over.”

Sam nods. “I won’t tell any of the Archangels, if I don’t have to.”

“Good.” With that Sasha waves him closer. And as much as Dean strains his ears, this time he can’t understand a thing.

Finally Sam straightens up. “Thanks,” he says. “You were a great help. Thanks a lot, Sasha. Can I come back, if I have more questions?”

“Sure,” Sasha says. “And let me know, if this checks out.”

“Will do. See you later.” Sam gets up, nods to Dean and leaves.

Dean shoots Sasha a questioning look, but his bodyguard only grins. “I don’t think you want a secret to keep from your boyfriend, no?”

“Fair enough,” Dean agrees. He should probably get back to serving customers anyway. And Sam looks like he got this. Dean is glad that he found something comparably harmless to do.


	5. Investigations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there are some answers and bees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Meet Cain.  
> Also: Way back someone asked about Gabriel's style of killing people. I'm always happy to answer questions like that ;-) So here we go. There'll be more about that next chapter, too.

The guy Sasha has told him of is named Cain. Well, was named Cain. He has a new name now. He also lives a few hours drive away on an old farm, apparently keeping bees. At least he has a small website that says he’s selling honey. There’s no picture of him on his website and only his new name is mentioned of course. That’s all Sam is able to find out. He isn’t quite sure why this Cain is someone Lucifer and Michael might fight about, so he decides to fish for information from Gabriel (without giving too much away of course). He half turns on his bed where he’s laying with his laptop and grabs his phone from the nightstand.

**Sam** : Does the name Cain ring a bell?

**Gabriel** : Actually, it does. He was part of some rivaling gang we took out years ago. Should be dead. Why?

Oh, now it’s starting to make sense. So Cain is Lucifer’s friend in prison, but sadly on the wrong side of the Archangels a few years later. And after the Archangels took them out, he turns out to be not as dead as everyone seems to think. Sam would’ve made a bet that Lucifer was the one who’d been sent to deal with them. And there’s probably some heartbreaking story there why Cain didn’t just switch sides.

**Sam** : He popped up when I looked for people who were in prison at the same time as Lucifer. But I guess he won’t be answering questions anymore.

**Gabriel** : Unless you got a ouija board ;-)

**Sam** : I’ll try that, if all else fails.

**Gabriel** : Let me know. You usually do that kind of thing at pyjama parties with a whole group of giggling girls, don’t you? That sound like something I don’t want to miss.

Sam rolls his eyes, before he types an answer.

**Sam** : I found a few other people I can ask about what happened back then. I’ll let you know, if anything checks out.

**Gabriel** : Sound like you’re having fun. Who would’ve thought that you actually enjoy doing cop work with all your clothes on, too ;-)

Sam huffs. He had been under cover and acting as bait in various strip clubs recently, but that wasn’t all he did.

**Sam** : Just because that’s the only part of my work you’re paying attention to, doesn’t mean it’s the only thing I do.

**Gabriel** : You said that. I’ll deny everything, especially if Lucifer asks!

With a huffed laugh, Sam puts the phone away and turns back to his laptop. He does a search for the best route to Cain’s farm. Looks like he’s going to go on a road trip tomorrow.

* * *

When Sam knocks on the front door of the little farm house nothing happens for quite a while. He knocks a second time and is about to leave, when finally a man with long pepper and salt hair and a full beard opens the door. He stares at Sam warily. “If you want to buy honey, come back tomorrow. The shop-hours are on the slate at the beginning of the driveway. You ignoring them doesn’t change them.” With that he moves to close the door.

What a charmer. Sam puts a foot in between the closing door and the frame. “Sasha sent me.”

Cain stop mid-scowl. “I don’t know anyone with the name of Sasha.”

That has to be a lie. “It’s about Nick Shurley. He’s in trouble and I need some answers to help him.”

That leads to the completion of the scowl. “Why don’t you ask him yourself?”

“Because if I show up in Purgatory Prison there’ll be questions asked I don’t want to answer.”

That on the other hand leads to Cain cursing and opening the door wider. “Come in.”

A bit later Sam is sitting on an old tacky sofa and drinking tea from a cup Cain just brought. It’s sweetened with a drop of honey.

“Tell Nick this,” Cain says. “If I help you, we’re even. I appreciate that he spared me, found me a way out, and sent his man with that fake ID. But he killed people I considered friends or at least allies. I haven’t forgiven him for that. Doesn’t matter that they didn’t leave him a choice.”

Oh yes, the story behind this is definitely heartbreaking and complicated. Under normal circumstances Sam would be curious, but right now he’s more concerned with Lucifer. “What’s the history between him and Alastair?” he asks.

Cain’s face turns dark at that. “Alastair is still alive? Would’ve thought Nick slit his throat by now.”

Oh, so Cain definitely knows something. Sam puts his cup away and leans forward. “Alastair is dead since quite recently. Do you know anyone else who wouldn’t be surprised, if it was Nick who did it?”

He hasn’t expected Cain to breathe a sigh of relief. “Finally! And yes. Actually, there are some people who would know that they’re next on the list.”

“That’s a list I’d be very interested in,” Sam says. Also, the thought that Alastair wasn’t alone with whatever he did, makes him antsy. Lucifer is in the same prison as before. What if something happened to him there again? Granted, he can defend himself. But he’s a prisoner. The guards will always have the upper hand.

Cain eyes him suspiciously. “And what are you going to do with a list like that?”

There was a time Sam would’ve hesitated to say what he’s going to say next. But right now he can’t care less. Since Lucifer is locked away a lot of things don’t seem to mean much anymore. He’s given up everything for Lucifer and Dean. His whole career. His chance to ever have a career again. The chance at a normal life. He doesn’t miss it usually. He actually enjoys the way he’s taking out bad guys, when he works for Michael. But without Lucifer? Half of the reason he’s even doing this is gone.

So he just leans back on that terrible sofa, looking Cain straight in the eyes. “I’m going to make sure no one on it can tell on him and whatever they did, they’ll regret it.”

And that seems to be the right thing to say, because it makes Cain smile. “Let me get pen and paper.”

* * *

“What did Alastair do to him?” Sam asks, when Cain hands over the list of names. Not knowing just makes him imagine the most terrible things. He has to know! “Or to you? It wasn’t just him, am I right?”

“I did what I promised to do.” Cain points at the list, his face closed off now. “And I think you should leave.”

“Please, I have to–”

“Leave!”

So Sam does.

On the drive back he thinks of Lucifer sitting alone in a cell somewhere with nothing but bad memories as company and an unknown amount of danger hanging over his head. He thinks of it until his heart hurts. Finally, with a curse on his lips, he gets his cellphone – fuck not being on your phone while driving – and calls Gabriel.

“I have a list of names, probably all prison guards. I need everything about them. Their files, all the reports they ever filed at work. Can you get those?”

“Hi, Samsquatch.” Gabriel sounds amused. “Nice to hear from you, too. I’m afraid I have to prioritise Michael’s orders over your charming request. So I’m off to end someone’s existence kinda permanently right now. But I’ll give you the number of a friend who can help you. Tell her Loki says hello.”

“Loki?” Sam asks. He probably should reflect more on the fact that he doesn’t even care who Gabriel is about to kill, but he _really_ doesn’t care.

Gabriel laughs. “Nice to know you have your priorities in order. It’s kinda my hacker alias. The name stuck from when I was trying to make Lucifer feel better about his name. Loki and Lucifer, quite a team, eh?”

Sam is sure Michael was thrilled about a team like that. Or their dad, though the impression Sam has gotten about him is that he wasn’t around much. And none of them ever talks about their mothers. “I’m sure you brought joy to everyone around you. Text me your friend’s number, okay?”

“Will do.”

“And … uhm …” What to say about a murder? “... good luck?” He’s not going to wish Gabriel fun, that much is for sure.

Gabriel snickers. “Thanks. Should be a pretty easy and boring job.”

“Must be so hard, getting the easy jobs,” Sam snarks.

That makes Gabriel laugh again. “Well, I’ll make do. There’s always a way to spice things up.”

* * *

Only when Sam reads a headline the next day about a prison guard that was found in his closet, hanging from a belt around his neck with his pants down, he realizes Gabriel meant that literally. He sends a link to the article to Gabriel.

**Gabriel** : Mikey said to make it look like an accident.

**Sam** : So you made it look like he got off on strangling himself and took it a bit too far?

**Gabriel** : No one questions that kind of accident.

He probably has a point there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will have Billie and Adam!


	6. Billie the Mortician

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Adam and Billie try to get information from the dead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go, Adam and Billie.
> 
> Since this is set in a morgue, there are dead people there. They get examined CSI style. There's also talk about the sexual things the dead guy might have done before he died.

Adam heads over to the morgue right after his shift at the hospital ends. Billie should be done soon, too, and then she’ll probably drag him to one of those goth clubs that she likes to frequent. Well, at least people there usually don’t freak out, if you talk about dead people too much, which is always a plus, when you’re going somewhere with Billie. 

The door of the morgue isn’t locked, so he enters and finds Billie standing next to one of the tables. There’s a dead guy on it, white, middle age, receding hairline, y-shaped incision on his torso that’s been already sewed shut again. Billie is frowning down on the guy as if he’s offended her personally. Which he probably has by not revealing all his secrets yet. Billie doesn’t like that.

“I guess we’re not heading out any time soon?” Adam asks.

“Not until I’ve made sense of this.”

With a sigh Adam steps closer. When his friend gets like that, it’s better to just help. “What doesn’t make sense?” Then he recognizes the face. “Wait, is that the guy from the news this morning?” What was the name again? Adam can’t remember. “The one who strangled himself while jerking off and died?”

Billie nods. “Fun way to go, isn’t it?”

“Well, I can imagine worse.” He sees worse in the hospital often enough. Though it’s really not the way anyone would want to be remembered.

Billie shoots him a definitely judging sideways glance.

“I don’t mean that I’m into that kind of thing,” Adam hastens to add. He takes a closer look at the dead guy. There are definitely strangulation marks around his neck. No other injuries visible. Except for the Y, of course. “So what’s the problem then?” He asks. “We know how he died.”

“The problem is,” Billie says, “that his sister is one of my ex-girlfriends, and she called me this morning and specifically asked me to take a closer look. And it’s not that I’m particularly fond of her, but I don’t want to get ten more calls like that either.”

“So you have to at least make an effort,” Adam concludes.

“Yes that,” Billie agrees. “And she’ll probably only shut up, if I actually find something. But I also just don’t like mysteries.”

They’ll definitely not head out any time soon. “So,” Adam asks in an attempt to not stay stuck here until really late in the night, “anything that doesn’t add up?”

“Not so far. Strangulation marks match with the belt that was around his neck when he was found. There’s nothing unusual in his blood, except a mediocre amount of alcohol, but that really isn’t unusual. There are signs of struggle, but only a broken fingernail from clawing at the belt and that could’ve happened as soon as he realized that he lost his footing. The belt was attached to the clothes rail in his closet and he must’ve slipped and couldn’t get his feet under himself again before he lost consciousness.”

Okay, put like that it sounds like a really creepy way to go. And probably bad luck for the man that he owns a closet with an actually sturdy rail. Adam tries to think of a question to distract himself from thinking about what it’d be like to accidentally hang yourself. But all he comes up with is: “Any signs that he actually jerked off?” Well, that really doesn’t help much regarding where his thoughts go. He tries not to stare at the dead guy’s dick.

Billie side-eyes him again. “Like what? Erections go down after death. They taught you that in med school, didn’t they?”

“Surprisingly, actually no one in med school ever specifically mentioned that your boner doesn’t last much longer than you,” Adam deadpans. But of course he knows about how the blood just pools in the lowest parts of the body after you die. “No, I mean precome stains or something like that.”

Billie looks at him, then she looks at the dead guy, then back at him. “Oh. Yes. I didn’t think of that.” A small pause. “To my defence, they shouldn’t have put a lesbian on this case.”

Adam huffs a laugh.

A bit later he finds himself staring at the dead guy’s dick anyway. The only difference is that the light is off, except for a black light Billie is holding. They don’t find any stains. Not on the guy’s hands either. And not on his clothes that Billie gets to check them too.

“Proving that something didn’t happen,” Billie says. “Always so much fun.”

“Yeah, I guess he could’ve just not gotten very far, before he died,” Adam agrees. “Though it’s more likely that you slip, when you’re kind of … well … distracted.”

Billie sighs. “I’ll mention it in my report, but I don’t think anyone will declare this a murder case because of it.”

Adam shrugs. “You made an effort.”

“Yeah, tell that to my ex.” She frowns at the dead guy again. “And I know the thing about still waters running deep, but according to her he was the most awkward guy when it came to anything sexual. Maybe there really is something fishy about this.”

“If there is, you’ll never find out.”

“Or maybe I still will.”


	7. Archangel's Wrath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there's a bloody murder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warning** : I'm not kidding in the chapter summary. This chapter contains the graphic description of someone getting murdered. It's basically the reason for the "graphic depiction of violence" tag and the reason for the "murder as coping mechanism" tag.  
> Oh, and it also contains smoking.
> 
> Also, I'm very sorry for the late update. I forgot in the morning and then I spent half the day traveling.

Dean finds Michael on the balcony. All of their rooms have one. It’s looking out over the garden, but there isn’t anything to see right now but darkness. Michael is leaning against the stone railing anyway, face illuminated by the tip of a cigarette between his lips. Dean steps next to him. “Since when do you smoke?”

Michael takes the cigarette between his fingers and turns it as if he’s seeing it for the first time. “Since today apparently.” He takes another drag and blows smoke into the night. It looks kinda good on him, Dean has to admit.

“It’s calming,” Michael goes on after a moment.

“You looked perfectly calm today.” The problem actually is that Michael looks too calm most of the time, because he’s shutting away whatever he might be feeling. At least that’s what it looks like to Dean.

Michael huffs, blowing smoke out of his nostrils. And for the first time Dean thinks he might be wrong. Maybe his boyfriend is not just going Vulcan after all.

“You wanna talk about it?”

Michael huffs again, and for a while they just stand there in silence. Dean leans his elbows on the railing, too, and their shoulders brush, while Michael continues smoking.

“Your brother brought a list today,” Michael says finally.

“What kind of list?” Sam had been busy, Dean knows that much. He doesn’t talk much about what he’s doing, though. At least not with Dean. He seems to be working on something with Gabriel, and Dean isn’t sure, if he likes that. Gabriel’s trouble. Well, all the Archangels are trouble, mostly for other people, but Gabriel is the particularly unpredictable kind.

“A list of names. He’s a bit evasive about his sources, but it all checks out. There’s been a group of prison guards led by Alastair, who …” Michael gestures with his cigarette. “Of course the reports Sam and Gabriel dug out are only telling of things that are according to regulations, but you can tell a lot by what they leave out and by little contradictions. And by some of the medical reports of the prisoners.” While he talks, his voice grows colder, and for once Dean really gets it.

“You think Sasha’s right and they really did something to Lucifer,” Dean says. “Not just Alastair, but all of them?”

Michael nods. “Solitary confinement. Confinement in a darkened cell. Way, way longer than allowed. That’s what the reports imply. Probably other things, too.”

Dean tries to imagine how he’d feel, if something like that happened to Sam. He’d probably be ready to kill the sons of bitches. (Not that it takes much to push Michael to consider murder in the first place.) But Michael is just staring into the darkness with a face made of stone.

“At least we now know that Alastair guy really had it coming.”

“Yes.” Michael is still staring ahead. “I’m actually surprised Lucifer didn’t end him sooner.”

“Well, maybe he didn’t want to be reminded of any of it. And that’s why he didn’t talk about it either.” Dean watches his boyfriend closely. He’s tense, that much is for sure. Well, the way he’s holding the cigarette looks a bit unpracticed, too, but his whole body seems to be high strung, ready to pounce.

Dean knows he’d feel terrible. As a big brother you make it your job to know about all the trouble younger siblings go through. Their wellbeing is your job. Missing something always feels like it’s on you. “Are you blaming yourself for not noticing anything sooner?” 

That gets him a non-committal head movement. “You know why Lucifer stayed longer than a few days in prison at all?” Michal asks instead of answering the question.

“Why?” Fine, Michael doesn’t want to talk about feelings and stuff, but at least he’s talking. “What did he get arrested for anyway?”

“Drug possession.” Michael takes one last drag from the cigarette, then stubs it out on the railing and just flips it into the darkness. “He was selling them, trying to make some extra money. We all were at the time, because we wanted Raphael to go to college eventually.”

“Raphael went to college?” Dean asks.

Michael shakes his head. “She wanted to. Wanted to become a doctor. But then Lucifer got arrested and father refused to bail him out. The rest of us tried to scrap enough money together for bail, but it took some time. And in the end we had to use most of what we had saved for her on top of it.” He pauses. “Now we would have the money for college, of course, but she says this is her life now. Probably hard to go back from killer to healer anyway.”

Ouch. Raphael having to give up on her dreams probably hurt all of them. “That’s not on you, you know that, right?”

Another huff, this time without smoke.

“Mike, you–”

Michael shakes his head and turns towards Dean, cutting him off. “I don’t want to hear that I did the best I could.”

Well, Dean had been planning to say something along the lines, but fine. If Michael doesn’t want to hear it, he won’t. After a moment Dean straightens up. “Well, there’s no use in beating yourself up over it in any case.” Not that Dean’s sure that Michael is doing that. He’s working on almost nothing here after all. But it probably doesn’t hurt to say it. “You can’t change what happened. You have to focus on what you can do about the situation right now. And now you have a lot more resources than you did when you were younger, don’t you? You’ll get him out, make sure no one will harm him this time, and make the sons of bitches pay.”

For a moment Michael seems to mull this over. Then suddenly his whole body language shifts from tense and stiff to more relaxed. Even though it’s the kind of relaxed you’d see in a predator that knows it’s the most dangerous thing around. It’s really hard not to get distracted by that, especially when he steps closer, pulls Dean in by his belt buckles. “You’re right.”

He goes in for a kiss, and to hell with not getting distracted. Dean all too happily kisses back, wraps his arms around Michael’s waist as he does so. He’s glad their little talk apparently helped. Though he can’t shake the feeling that Michael took his words a bit differently than he meant them.

That feeling grows stronger, when he wakes up later in the night just to find Michael’s side of the bed empty. (He knows he should stay with Sam, but Michael needs him, too, right?) Michael isn’t in his office either, but on his desk, on top of everything else, is a list of names in Sam’s handwriting. There are additions made by Michael in the margins. One name has the note: “Probably already killed by Gabriel, because he was a witness. Make sure there aren’t two people of that name.” And then there’s the first name that is striked through with ink that’s barely dried.

“Damn, Mike! That’s not what I meant.” Though it probably would’ve happened sooner or later anyway.

* * *

Michael heaves himself up and swings his legs over the railing of a balcony that’s a lot smaller than his own. On the other side he crouches down, making sure all the windows of the apartments around him stay dark. There’s one with the light of a TV is flickering behind it, but he doesn’t worry about that. No one has seen him.

He sneaks over to the door that leads to the balcony and takes out a few tools he brought in a small pouch hanging from his belt. With them he makes short work of the door. Seconds later it swing open silently.

His target’s name is Brad Buckner, and he’s a former prison guard at Purgatory prison, retired by now. All research suggest that he’s remained a close friend of Alastair, though, which made him the target Michael picked. At the moment he can hear him snoring. He follows the sound into a small bedroom.

In the light of a streetlamp Michael sees a broad shouldered man with a military haircut lying in bed. Keeping himself in shape despite his age apparently. He’s tossed and turned in his sleep and lost most of his blanket, but right now he’s sleeping soundly, doesn’t even stirr, when Michael creeps closer.

One of his arms is stretched up, hand close to the headboard, and it gives Michael an idea. It may get a bit more noisy than what he’s originally planned, but that’s a risk he’s willing to take. He wants the man to suffer.

He crouches to pull a small knife from a sheath in his boot and bends over the prison guard. Still nothing but snoring. Carefully, Michael places the tip of the knife in the middle of Buckner’s palm. The prison guard’s fingers twitch a little. Then Michael shoves.

The knife goes through flesh and then the wood of the headboard. Brad Buckner wakes with a gasp and a strangled scream that gets cut short, when Michael clasps his hand over his mouth. Buckner’s free hand flails aimlessly, blows easy to dodge. With his free hand, Michael pulls another knife from its sheath. As soon as the edge digs into the skin over Buckner’s throat, the man freezes.

“Ssshh.” Michael climbs onto the bed, straddling Buckner’s torso. The former prison guard watches him with big eyes, tears streaming over his cheeks. He’s breathing heavily through his nose. Michael can feel it on the back of his hand and the heaving of his chest. The man’s fear gives Michael fierce satisfaction. Serves him right.

“Ssshh,” he says again. “I just wanted to make sure that I have your attention. I have something to tell you. So listen closely, okay?”

There’s the hint of a nod, and Brad Buckner tries to speak, but Michael just presses his hand down harder. “Listen, I said.”

This time it’s just a nod. Better.

Not better is that Buckner’s hand is creeping towards his pillow. Hidden gun maybe? Stupid to sleep with a loaded gun under your pillow, but stupid probably describes this man well. And a bad conscience always makes for a good case of paranoia too.

Michael watches the hand for a moment, then he swiftly removes the knife from Buckner’s throat and brings it down on his hand with force. He can feel the blade scratch along bone, and then it pierces the mattress, too, until it’s buried to the hilt. Buckner’s legs thrash, his screams muffled by Michael’s hand. Blood seeps into the sheets.

“Will you listen now?”

More eager nodding this time.

“Finally.” Michael draws a third knife, Buckner watching him with eyes round with fear. He places the tip gently at the prison guard’s throat, sees him swallow. “You know, I’m not even sure, if you remember him. It must’ve been about fifteen years ago. There was an eighteen year old in your prison by the name of Nick Shurley. Blond, kind of scrawny. A troublemaker.”

Michael slowly drags the knife down Buckner’s throat to the collarbone, digs the tip in there until he draws blood. The former prison guard tenses underneath him, but most of the fight has left him for now. “Does that ring a bell?”

A hesitant nod. Michael isn’t sure, if he’s lying, but it probably doesn’t make a difference. “You and your friend Alastair put him into solitary confinement way longer than what’s allowed. Without light sometimes, too. And I think you also beat him, though there’s no conclusive evidence for that. Yet. What I know is this …”

He makes a shallow cut along the collarbone, which gets him a muffled whimper. “When my brother came out of prison, he had nightmares. And he couldn’t stay alone in a room, when the door was closed. And he kept getting into fights more often, which is something he does, when he feels bad about himself. He was way more brutal, too.”

Something happens, when Buckner realizes Michael is talking about his brother. He starts thrashing again, tries to throw Michael off. And he may be strong, but he’s way past his best years and Michael has gravity and the better position on his side. Buckner manages to pull the knife out of the mattress, though.

“Oh, can you just keep still?” With than Michael buries the third knife in the prison guard’s biceps. This time Buckner’s eyes roll up and he goes limp for a moment. Michael uses the opportunity to grab the handle of the knife that’s still stuck in his hand, and ram its tip into the headboard, too. That should do the trick.

He pulls the blade out of Buckner’s arm, which gets him a weak, barely conscious groan. So Michael slaps the man a few times until his eyes focus again.

“I’m sorry!” Buckner pleads, making use of the fact that there’s no hand on his mouth for a change. “It wasn’t my idea. It was always Alastair! He came up with it! We just went along. You have to believe me! We were all a bit afraid of him. You couldn’t tell the guy no!”

Anger that had been seething inside Michael since Sam had presented him with the list and his theory rises up. And for a change he doesn’t shove it down again at once, doesn’t try to keep a clear head. “Don’t give me that shit! Of course you could’ve! If you had a backbone!”

Buckner flinches, moves as if he’s trying to get away from him, but he can’t. “I’m sorry!”

“No, you know what? I’m sorry. Because I didn’t prevent it from ever happening at all.” It feels good to say it. Michael just wishes it’d be as easy to tell this to Dean. He knows Dean feels like he’s shutting him out, but it’s just so hard to talk about this with someone who actually matters, who won’t be dead soon anyway. “And I didn’t realize for way too long that something was wrong in the first place. Or I would’ve come here way sooner. But I’m going to correct that mistake now.” With that Michael puts his hand over Buckner’s mouth again. He shifts his grip on the knife, and then he brings it down. Once. Twice. A third time. A fourth. He doesn’t bother aiming well, and when he gets up from the bed, Buckner isn’t quite dead yet, only dying. Michael watches his last few breaths that stain his lips red, but even when Buckner’s life fades, his anger doesn’t. He should’ve seen it. He should’ve done something sooner. He should’ve gotten Lucifer out faster. His best wasn’t good enough.

With a sigh, he sets to cleaning up his mess.

* * *

Dean is still up, when Michael comes home. He takes one look at Michael’s bloody clothes, then pulls him towards the bathroom. “Feel better now?” he asks.

Michael shakes his head.

Dean stops and turns towards him, grasps him by the shoulders that are mostly blood-free. “Listen. We’ll get him out. All of us. Together.”

Michael takes a deep breath. “I should’ve made sure he didn’t go to prison in the first place.” There. It’s out.

With a sigh, Dean pulls him closer, ignoring that he probably gets blood on his clothes, too. Michael likes that about Dean. That he may have some trouble with murder, but if he deems other things more important, he can just ignore all the unpleasant things that come with it. “I know being a big brother with a deadbeat parent isn’t easy. And you have four younger siblings, not just one. Looking at the circumstances you did really well by all of them. Look where it got you. No one expects you to work miracles.”

Michael isn’t quite sure, if he believes his boyfriend, but he allows himself to relax into the embrace. He can enjoy a moment of this, before he goes back to being in control of everything again. He can enjoy just a moment where it’s only him and Dean.

At least now that he knows all their names, he can make sure none of Alastair’s friends bother Lucifer again, while they’re still working on getting him out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The wonderful and talented Askatosch drew art for this chapter, and [you can find it here](https://askatosch.tumblr.com/post/172446938554/based-on-an-upcoming-story-of).


	8. Caged

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Lucifer gets into even more trouble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's lots of Samifer pining in this chapter.

“You’re dead, Nicky.”

Hearing one of the guards say this shouldn’t be a relief, but to Lucifer it is. Every threat, every outright confrontation is better than what’s going on in his head. Everything that keeps his mind in the here and now and distracts him from the fact that he’s caged and cut off from everything that actually means something. From his siblings. From Sam.

Lucifer looks up with a smirk on his lips. He’s standing in line for dinner and just passed a guard without even looking. Now he recognizes the face, though. One of Alastair’s guys. Bartholomew, wasn’t it? One of the more expendable ones. “Am I?” He asks.

“We all know you killed Alastair,” the guard hisses.

“Oh, did you actually like him?” Lucifer taunts. “I didn’t think he had friends. More like minions, you know what I mean? Little spineless creatures that jumped when he gave the order.”

That gets him a shove. Lucifer goes with it, finds his balance again fast. He lifts his still empty tray by instinct to use it as a weapon, but of course that’s a mistake. At once a baton comes down. But what’s he to do? Drop everything and cower? Yeah, that sounds likely. So instead he deflects the blow with the tray, and at least for a moment he feels actually alive again.

* * *

It takes five guards to hold him down in the end, and Lucifer just barely remembers that he can’t kill any of them, if he ever wants to see Sam again. They drag him away battered and bruised, and then he’s locked into a cell he knows all too well. One without a cellmate. One that makes him feel like he’s buried alive.

At least there’s light.

And at least the adrenaline and the anger of the fight are still coursing through his body. He concentrates on them. He concentrates on the last glimpse he’s gotten at Bartholomew, mouth bloody, staring down at a broken tooth between his fingers. It was worth it. He tells himself it was worth it. It probably wasn’t, but he can’t think straight right now. He only knows that his anger keeps him afloat, so he clings to it. He should’ve ended them all years ago. But he’d always wanted to start with Alastair and he’d never felt quite ready. Should’ve known the guy would bleed and scream just like everyone else when he cut him.

And that memory makes Lucifer smile. At least for a little while.

* * *

“You can’t keep getting into trouble!”

His lawyer’s name is Crowley. Kinda short, british guy. He claims to work closely with Naomi, Michael’s usual pet lawyer. But his brother could hardly have sent her, if he doesn’t want questions. So he sent someone who has a reputation for double crossing his clients, if the payment is right. How reassuring. But Crowley has assured him he’s one hundred percent invested in this case. And there was something about history between him and Naomi. Lucifer hadn’t listened too closely.

“As you can see,” he says, “I can.”

Crowley huffs in annoyance. “Mr. Shurley, you don’t quite seem to understand that we’re working on getting you out of here! But if you keep attacking inmates and guards, it doesn’t make for a convincing argument that you weren’t the one to attack Alastair.”

Lucifer understands perfectly well. He knows he should be on his best behavior. It’s just so fucking hard. “You’re taking too long.”

“We’re taking too long?” Crowley stares at him exasperated. “You murdered someone! Clearing charges like that takes some bloody time! If you’re that impatient, maybe next time refrain from making shish kebab out of random guards.”

“He wasn’t a random guard,” Lucifer protests.

“Well, of course that makes it better.” Crowley pinces the bridge of his nose and takes a deep breath. “Your brother wants you to know that he’s doing everything he can to get you out of prison as fast as possible, and asks you to please not make his job harder.”

It’s good to hear that, it really is. The thought that he has maybe been abandoned again like his father had done so many years ago is hard to shake on bad days. And on most good days, too, if he’s honest. If they could at least tell him that in person …

There’s a thought, though. “Did you have to give up your cellphone before coming here?” He asks.

“Technically,” Crowley says, eyeing him carefully now. “They’re not allowed to search my stuff, though.”

“I want to call my boyfriend.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

Crowley sighs again. “This case will carry my career to an early grave, but fine.” He opens the briefcase he brought and takes out a really old phone. One that still has buttons. “You have five minutes.”

* * *

Sam sitting on the Lucifer’s bed, computer on his lap, when his phone rings. Dean had come up with the idea that he stays in the archangel mansion in Lucifer’s room. Probably so he can stay with Michael and still have an eye on Sam. That’s why Sam has said yes. To make things easier for Dean. But everything in this room reminds him that Lucifer isn’t here.

He doesn’t recognize the number on his display, so he answers with a careful: “Yes?”

“Sam.”

The voice makes his heart speed up. “Lucifer! How did you …? Should you call me? Is that a good idea?”

“I’m calling from my lawyer’s phone. We don’t have much time. How are you doing?”

Apart from not being able to sleep much and feeling like nothing makes sense anymore … “Fine,” Sam lies. “I’m fine. You?”

That makes his boyfriend laugh. “Enjoying my vacation.”

Sam huffs. “Yeah, sure. I heard you got into trouble again.”

“Not my fault. I’m just finishing the fights other people start.”

Sam shakes his head. “Well, you’re making things harder for all of us here.”

“I know, I know. I’m trying to be good, okay?” There’s a strain in Lucifer’s voice now that makes Sam’s heart break a little.

He nods, forgetting for a moment that his boyfriend can’t see it. “Is there anything I can do?”

“Actually, a certain Bartholomew seems to be kind of angry about me putting a knife through Alastair’s chest. Repeatedly. Can you tell Michael to take care of him?”

Sam’s stomach clenches with worry. What Lucifer is not saying is, if one of the guards is angry enough, Lucifer might even end up dead in his cell. And there Sam thought the fact that one of the people on Cain’s list has already turned up with several stab wounds was overdoing it a bit. Of course he had expected the people on the list to turn up dead. But less messy and less immediately. Now he’s quite content with that, though. “He’s as good as dead.” And if none of the others have time right away, Sam will do it himself.

Lucifer gives a dry laugh. “Going a bit dark side, aren’t you, young padawan?”

“I’m not ‘going darkside’, Lucifer. I’m just trying to help you.”

“Well, I’m not complaining, I think it’s pretty hot. But don’t do anything you’ll regret later, okay?”

Sam takes a deep breath. “I won’t.” Then another one. If he wants to ask, now is the time. “Lucifer, what did they do to you last time?”

“I’ll tell you when I’m out.” There’s that strain in Lucifer’s voice again.

Sam wants to know right now, but if Lucifer doesn’t want to talk, now is really not the time to bug him about it.

“I have to go now.”

“Hey, Lucifer, wait! Why did you call me and not Michael?”

“I wanted to hear your voice.” With that Lucifer is gone, and as Sam looks around the room, it seems even more empty now.


	9. Sidelined

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Sam gets increasingly frustrated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter could also be called: In which I give my characters living conditions that I would really like to have myself, but that I'll never be able to afford. Anyone here want to become my rich benefactor and buy me a winter garden?

“Bartholomew?” Michael asks.

Sam nods. He’s standing in front of Michael’s desk, something that he’s slowly getting used to by now. Michael is definitely more deadly than all the police chiefs Sam has seen back when he was still a cop, but he’s more reasonable often enough. He can deal with that.

“It sounded like he was making quite a lot of trouble for Lucifer,” Sam says. “So if no one else is available at the moment, I could–”

“Kill him?” Michael interrupts. He looks at Sam as if he isn’t sure, if he really means it. Which is probably fair, since Sam has made it pretty clear in the past that he’ll do the recon, but not the actual murder.

Now Sam just shrugs. “We need him gone, don’t we? And Lucifer is pretty vulnerable in prison. If that guard decides he wants revenge ...” He doesn’t even want to think about it.

“I know.” Michael sounds in control as always. “I’ll put Raphael on it. Don’t worry.”

Sam shouldn’t be annoyed at that. He knows Raphael will handle the job better than he would. But is Michael really going to give every single job in this operation to his siblings? “Michael, you’re one Archangel short right now. And the people on the list aren’t the only ones we have to worry about. Aren’t Raphael and Gabriel busy enough with witnesses and the prosecution?” Sam takes a step forward. “I’m willing to do the dirty work, if it helps Lucifer. Please, let me help!”

It’s not like Sam is eager to murder someone, but he wants to do something. And by now he’s pretty much run out of things he can research on his own. More poking in Lucifer’s past won’t help him.

Michael sighs. “Sam, if they all drop dead at once, we’ll draw attention. We’ll make sure they can’t come to work for a while, but unless you know how to stage an accident so that someone breaks a leg or something like that, you’re not much help there at the moment.”

Being told that he’s of no help is the last thing Sam wants to hear right now. Right behind the fact that Lucifer’s tormentors don’t get to pay. “So they’ll get away?”

That makes Michael stare at him through narrowed eyes. “You want them dead? All of them?”

Yes, since Sam has heard the strain in Lucifer’s voice while he tries to keep it together, he does. He knows it’s wrong, of course. He just doesn’t care anymore. “They hurt Lucifer! Badly enough that he refuses to talk about it!”

Michael leans forward, face dark now. “And you think I don’t know that?”

That makes Sam think back on the news report he’s heard about Brad Buckner who had been found dead in his apartment a few days ago. He really shouldn’t forget about that when dealing with Michael. But he also really doesn’t want to be sidelined. He stares back at Michael defiantly.

“I was planning on letting you help,” Michael says after a while, “as soon as I have a job that fits your skills. But I promised Dean I won’t let you do anything you might regret later.”

“Oh, and Dean knows better than me what I might regret and what I won’t?” Part of Sam knows that his brother just wants to protect him, but he’s a grown man. He can make his own decisions! Dean pulled him into this organized crime thing, so he has no right to complain, if Sam goes all the way!

Sam only realizes that he’s put both hands on Michael’s desk and is leaning over it, when the oldest Archangel gets up, anger on his face. Instinctively, Sam takes a step back. He watches as Michael walks around the desk and steps right into his personal space. He is a bit shorter than Sam, but that doesn’t make him any less intimidating. “Right now basically everyone knows better than you. You’re besides yourself with worry, Sam. Get a grip!”

“I’m fine!” Sam protests. He’s probably said that way too often recently.

Michael huffs in a way that makes clear he doesn’t believe a word Sam said. “As I said,” he continues in a cold voice. “I’ll let you help. But since your judgement seems to be all over the place right now, you’ll have to do as you’re told. No arguing. No acting without clearing things with me first. If you have an idea, I’m all ears, but driving off on your own and getting things from sources you don’t want to disclose, is something that won’t happen again. Are we clear?”

Sam nods. As long as he gets to help, he can do that.

“Good.” Michael takes a step back. “Oh, and don’t even think you can replace Lucifer. We’re one Archangel short, no matter if you help or not.”

Sam presses his lips together and nods again. Of course he knows he can’t replace Lucifer, but his pride is still a bit hurt. “So, what do you want me to do?”

That gets him a satisfied look from Michael. “Help Gabriel find blackmail material on judge Bevell. We haven’t found any indication that she can be bribed.”

At least that sounds like something very useful to do. Sam takes a deep breath. “Thank you.”

Michael shoots him a thin smile. “We’ll get him out soon.” It almost sounds like he believes it.

* * *

Sam finds Gabriel in the winter garden of the archangel villa. It’s a two storey high addition to the house, completely made of glass and full of plants and a few exotic birds that apparently Lucifer brought with him at some point. At least he’s heard Dean mention something like that before. Gabriel is sitting in a hammock that stretches between the trunk of two trees, laptop on his lap.

Sometimes Sam thinks it’s really unfair that you have to kill people for a living to get to have nice things like this.

“Oh yes, judge Bevell,” Gabriel says, after Sam explained why he’s here. “She’s tough to crack. I think I found something, but I can’t prove it so far.”

Sam pulls up a wicker chair so sit facing Gabriel. “What is it?”

“Ever heard of the Men of Letters?”

Sam shakes his head. “Sounds like a book club or something.”

That makes Gabriel laugh. “Well, try secret society of super wealthy dudes that most of the big businesses in our country belong to. They have a lot of influence in higher circles. Politicians in their pockets and stuff like that.”

This can’t be real, can it? “Now _that_ sounds like you need a tinhat soon.”

“Ha! I wish. We spend quite some time trying not to get in their way. Some things even we don’t want to mess with.” Gabriel pauses, seems to think about it for a while. “Yet. Now it looks like we might have to.”

Slowly Sam has an idea what Gabriel is getting at. “So judge Bevell has connections to those Men of Letters?”

Gabriel points at him. “At least I think she has ruled in their favor a few times. Which would be pretty incriminating, if we can prove it. Lady Bevell is pretty old school, though. Not much digital data I can hack into.”

“Which means someone has to break into her office and take a look around there?” Sam asks.

“Bingo, Samshine.” Gabriel grins. “Which also mean, I need to know the layout of her office and as much as possible about the working hours of most of her staff and things like that.”

“You want me to go in there with some kind of excuse and do recon work for you,” Sam says. Well, that’s not a very demanding job, but better than nothing.

Gabriel nods. “The building she’s in is looking for a security guard right now. Sounds like a job a former cop could apply for, right?”

Sam sighs. Who would’ve thought that he’ll have to write a job application to get his boyfriend out of prison? “I think I’d much rather kill someone,” he jokes.

Gabriel laughs. “Come on, applying for a job can’t be that bad.”

Sam throws him a bitchface. “That just proves that you never had to.”

“Guilty.” Gabriel shrugs. 

“Lucky you,” Sam grumbles. He gets up. “I’ll go get to work then.”

When he walks towards the door, Gabriel stays uncharacteristically silent. Sam had expected a teasing “Have fun!” or something like that. Instead, when Sam looks back over his shoulder, Gabriel stares at him all serious.

“What?” Sam asks.

Gabriel sighs. “Listen, Samshine, I miss him too. And I worry about him too. But Mike told me what you talked about, and you’re heading somewhere dark you really don’t want to get into too deep.”

Sam feels anger flaring up inside him. “It’s rich how everybody with a body count higher than some small towns I know tries to tell me doing whatever it takes to help is a bad thing.”

Annoyed, Gabriel clicks his tongue. “Well, I don’t know if you forgot what it felt like to shoot your boss, but as much as we joke about it, murder isn’t fun, you know. We’re trying to spare you some nasty things.”

“Well, how nice of you, but I’d much rather be spared knowing I could’ve done more to help, while Lucifer ends up dead or severely traumatized.” With that, Sam slams the door behind him as he walks out.

Gabriel doesn’t try to call after him or follow him.


	10. Double Shift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which I ship Adam with coffee.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I have no idea how things in american hospitals work, but I hope this will do for the story.

Adam impatiently waits for the vending machine to fill his plastic cup with coffee. His double shift has only started a few hours ago (one night shift, one day shift right after) and he feels exhausted already. He has ER duty tonight and this is the first time he can catch a break. It had all started with some guy in a car accident who had his leg broken in several places, bones breaking skin in one. And then one emergency after the other had come pouring in.

The vending machine is just about done, when a voice calls out behind him. “There you are, Milligan! I’ve been looking for you. Someone has to check on Mr. Bartholomew.”

And someone of course means him. Adam turns with a sigh. It’s nurse Willson behind him who’s staring all judgingly at his cup of coffee right now. As if it’s illegal to take a tiny break. “Bartholomew?” Adam asks.

“Car accident guy.”

“Oh,” Adam says. “Yes. I’m on it.” He takes the cup out of the vending machine and takes one sip of scalding hot coffee. It’ll be cold when he’s done, that much is for sure. So this is the best it’ll get.

* * *

Mr. Bartholomew turns out to be someone who needs a lot of reassurance. He’d been rushed right into surgery as soon as he arrived. Now he’s just waking up and high on painkillers.

“Tell me,” he mumbles. “How bad is it? I’ll be able to walk again, right?”

“Yes,” Adam says while he checks the drip the guy is hooked to. “It’ll take some time, but you will.”

“How well? Prison guard isn’t exactly a desk job you know.”

“Time will tell,” Adam says. “But there weren’t any tendons injured, so it’s looking good.”

“Good … good …” Bartholomew tries to sit up, and Adam gently pushes him down again. Now he notices a few bruises on the man’s face that look older. Not from the accident.

“Please don’t try to move.”

“I can’t stay for long,” Bartholomew protests. “I’m not sure, if my insurance will cover all of this.”

“You’ll have to check with your insurance company about that, but right now you probably wouldn’t be able to stand, even if your leg wasn’t injured.”

Bartholomew groans, lying back again. “Shit … why now?”

“You’ll have to check with fate about that,” Adam answers dryly.

Bartholomew doesn’t laugh, just scowls as if the whole car accident is somehow Adam’s fault.

“You had plans?” Adam asks, before the man can make an angry remark. Awkward conversation is still better than an angry patient.

“Just wanted to get back on the guy who did this.” Bartholomew gestures towards his face. He looks all serious about it. Charming.

“Well, that’ll have to wait.” With that Adam gets out of there. Maybe his coffee isn’t completely cold yet, and in the very least he’s sure he can find a patient that’s more fun to be around.

* * *

Adam spends a crappy night at the hospital that gets him maybe four hours of sleep. He hates night shifts, he hates sleeping while on attendance, because it’s hard to really relax while an emergency could occur any time. At least he manages a quick shower in the morning.

When he steps out of the staff room, Billie is leaning on the wall opposite the door, still wearing her black leather coat, which means she came here before her work at the morgue started. She’s holding a big cup of coffee. Actual good coffee from the coffee shop nearby, not the shitty stuff from the vending machine that Adam has to drink since the coffee machine in the staff room broke.

“You’re a lifesaver,” Adam tells her, while he grabs the cup.

Billie’s lips twist into a wry smile. “On how much sleep are you running? Because I got something I want to share.”

Adam takes a sip from the coffee, then points at the cup. “Give me five minutes.”

She smiles again.

* * *

Thankfully, the early morning hours are mostly quiet, and Adam still has half an hour, before it’s time for morning round. So he gets to actually drink his coffee, while Billie tells him about dead prison guards.

“Buckner was definitely murdered,” she says. “You don’t repeatedly fall into a knife by accident. Especially not while sleeping.”

No shit. “And he used to work in Purgatory Prison?” Adam asks.

Billie nods.

“Just like your Ex’s kinky brother?”

Billie nods again. “Not so kinky, if I’m right.”

“You think there’s a connection and Buckner wasn’t the only one who was murdered.” Adam’s brain still isn’t up to speed yet, but at least that much is obvious.

“Yes, and I’m trying to tell people, but what do I know? I’m just a mortician, not one of their fancy forensic guys. They’re not listening to me. Or they don’t want to listen to me.” She sounds slightly annoyed about it, which means that she’s almost beyond herself with anger for her standards.

“Wow.” Adam takes another sip from his coffee while he tries to process all of this. “This is some serious crime novel kind of shit.”

“Yeah,” Billie agrees dryly. “Finally some fun.”

He isn’t sure, if she’s being sarcastic or not.

Then something else occurs to him. “Wait … they were all prison guards, right?”

Billie rolls her eyes. “It was less than five hours, am I right?”

“No,” Adam says. “I mean yes.” This is just a coincidence, right? They can’t actually have somehow ended up in some big conspiracy murder plot or something? He’s way too tired for that. “But there’s another prison guard here right now. Had a car accident yesterday.”

“Well, damn,” Billie says.

And Adam already knows what the next question will be. “Listen, if you really want to play detective, you have ten minutes before the morning round starts. Go talk to him. I definitely didn’t see unauthorized personal enter his room outside of visiting hours. I’ll make sure no one else sees anything either.”

Billie grins. “You’re a real friend.”

“Well …” Adam points at his coffee. “For that I’d even help you bury a body.”

“Don’t tempt me.”

Again he can’t quite tell, if she’s serious or not.

* * *

Billie isn’t really sure why she’s digging into this. Maybe it’s just that she wants to be right. She definitely hates being ignored like she is. It’s not like she wants to play the hero and solve some big case herself or something like that. Only people in movies do that. She’ll just find proof, get the satisfaction of having been right, and then let other people do the dangerous parts of the job like finding and arresting the bad guys.

That’s the plan when she enters Bartholomew’s room.

He’s sleeping, but he stirs when she steps next to his bed. Confused, he blinks up at her, thoughts probably muddled by a lot of painkillers. “You’re not a nurse.”

“No,” Billie says. “I have a few questions for you,” she adds in her best commanding voice. If she implies that she has the right to ask questions, maybe he won’t think about asking for a badge. And she won’t have to lie.

He smiles. “Always happy to answer questions from beautiful women.”

Great. This is not going quite as well as she hoped, but you take what you get.

She doesn’t get many answers, though. Yes, he knows both of the other guards. Had been friends with them even, which fits her theory that something isn’t right. But when she asks for any enemies they all might have, he just shrugs. “Former prisoners maybe? There’s always someone who might hold a grudge.”

Well, that’s a whole lot of suspects and not much to go on. Billie leaves the hospital with a bit less confidence that she’ll actually be able to find any proof.

At least, while she’s heading out, she spies a seriously beautiful woman talking to the girl at the front desk. That’s a nice way to start the day. Her pose is kinda regal, her dark hair is pulled back into a ponytail, and those cheekbones? Damn ...

For a moment, their eyes meet through the lobby, and Billie goes for one of those half-smiles that lots of girls she’s dated before seem to find kinda mysterious. Most of the time the best she can hope for is to get a some kind of smile back. But this woman lifts an eyebrow in a way that Billie wants to think looks interested. And for a moment Billie considers being late for work. Maybe she can get her number.

But then the stranger turns away to resume her conversation with the receptionist, and Billie continues her way outside with a sigh. She has more important things to worry about anyway.


	11. Little Brothers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dean is of the opinion that one smart-ass little brother should be more than enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since I'll be away all Saturday, have an update, before I go to bed.
> 
> Also: It could be that the next update will be late. It depends on how good hotel wifi in France usually is. If it's really bad, the next chapter will go online on Monday instead of Saturday.

** Archangel Chat **

**Raphael** : I’m afraid we have a problem.

**Gabriel** : In case you haven’t noticed, Raphe, we have a shitton of problems.

**Michael** : What is it now?

**Raphael** : The mortician who realized the connection between the dead prison guards, Billie Richings? I followed her to work today.

**Gabriel** : Wasn’t that the one you think is hot?

**Raphael** : I didn’t say anything about her being hot.

**Gabriel** : Of course you didn’t. You probably wouldn’t, if your life depended on it. But I totally know the way you fall very silent when you see someone you find attractive. And you were very quick to take that case.

**Raphael** : You know, just because Lucifer isn’t here, you don’t have to be twice as annoying to make up for it.

**Michael** : Cut it out! Both of you!

**Michael** : Raphael, report!

**Raphael** : As I said, I followed her to work, but she made a stop at the nearby hospital first. According to some of the nurses she’s there often, always to pick up or talk to a certain resident doctor Adam Milligan.

**Gabriel** : Wait, isn’t that John Winchester’s youngest?

**Raphael** : Exactly.

**Michael** : Please tell me she doesn’t share her findings with him.

**Raphael** : I’m convinced she does.

**Gabriel** : Awesome. So we do another “We’re going to make him an offer he can’t refuse” kind of gig? Because we can’t kill him, right? Dean-o would throw a fit.

**Raphael** : We’re not risking Lucifer’s freedom for your boyfriend’s half-brother, though, are we, Michael?

**Michael** : We won’t. But I will talk to Dean about this.

**Raphael** : Better hurry. Billie seems to be a smart girl. It’s only a matter of time until she digs up something substencial.

**Gabriel** : I knew it! You totally have the hots for her!

**Raphael** : Fuck you, Gabriel.

**Gabriel** : Who’s trying to compensate for Lucifer’s absence now?

* * *

“Adam?” Dean asks. He’s lying on their shared bed in the Archangel mansion and had been playing some game on his phone, while he’d waited for his boyfriend to finally call it a day.

“Your half brother.” Michael sits on the edge of the bed. It had been way to warm most of the day, and they both hadn’t left the house, so Michael had been walking around in nothing but shorts the whole day. Dean thinks he does it on purpose, because he’s a fucking tease, but there’s also the possibility that he doesn’t even realize how good he’s looking. “I know you never write birthday cards, but you do remember him, do you?”

Dean rolls his eyes. “Yes, I remember my half brother. But run that by me again. He’s friends with a mortician who’s realized you murdered people? And you think he knows what she knows?”

Michael leans back supporting his weight on his hands behind him and nods. “Since he’s your family, I’m giving you a say in what we do about this. To be honest, I actually like the thought of recruiting him, too. It always pays to know a doctor.”

Oh, no! No! Dean has to think of what ‘recruiting’ had done to Sammy. He’d quit his job, lost contact with a lot of his friends as far as Dean knows. And he claims it’s fine and this is his life now, but sometimes Dean isn’t sure. Yesterday he’d caught Sam staring at the contacts in his phone, not actually calling anyone. Maybe it’s just the current situation and him wanting to talk about it with someone. But maybe he sometimes misses his old life, too. Especially now that Lucifer isn’t around to distract him.

Dean can’t do this to another little brother. It’s bad enough he couldn’t protect Sammy from all the bad things in the world.

But Michael has enough problems of his own. He really doesn’t need to think about this, too. So Dean just pulls a skeptical face. “I think you’re running out of siblings you can hook up with my siblings. Especially since Adam isn’t into men as far as I know. Not sure, if he and Raphael would make a good match.” It’s hard to picture Raphael with any kind of partner. She seems to be above those kinds of things. But if he’s honest, so does Michael. Dean still isn’t sure how he ended up with a breathtaking boyfriend like that.

His comment makes the corners of Michael’s mouth twitch. “I’m almost sure Adam isn’t her type. But maybe there’s something we can bribe him with? I’d just offer money, but I guess if he’s anything like the rest of the family, that’d offend him.”

“Yeah, it probably would. Give me a day, and I’ll talk to him, get him and his friend to back off.” Dean isn’t sure, if he can do that without giving anything away, but if there is a chance to warn Adam away from this without pulling him into the criminal life, he has to try.

Surprised, Michael lifts an eyebrow. “You think you can do that?”

“Let me at least try. If it doesn’t work, we can still come up with something more drastic.”

Michael doesn’t look too convinced.

“Come on, Mike,” Dean pleads. This is something that still scares him a little sometimes. That Michael making a face like that could as well mean that someone is going to die. “Trust me with this?”

“Of course I trust you, Dean.” Michael shifts and crawls over the bed towards Dean until he’s almost on top of him. Which is super distracting, until Dean looks into Michael’s eyes and sees how serious he is. “But we’re both trying to protect our siblings here.”

Which could potentially mean a fucking big conflict of interest, Dean gets that. But they managed the same problem with Sam, too, didn’t they? “We’ll find a way,” he says. “As long as you’re willing to work with me.”

“That’s why we’re talking, isn’t it? Whatever you need, Dean, as long as it makes your brother and his friend keep their mouths shut, you’ll get it.”

Well, that’s a huge offer, because Dean’s pretty sure there isn’t much Michael couldn’t get him. He smiles. “For now I just need a day and your trust.”

“I can give you that.”

Instead of an answer, Dean pulls his boyfriend down for a kiss.

* * *

All the confidence he’s shown in front of Michael, vanishes, when Dean is knocking on the door of Adam’s apartment. Of course Adam is family, but it’s not like Dean knows the kid too well. Their father had only learned about Adam’s existence shortly after Sam had ran away to become a cop, and he’d always shielded Adam from the more often than not illegal work he had Dean (and Sam, before he’d ran away) help him with. As if he’d wanted a normal family on the side, the white picket fence life he could escape to now and then, when he needed a break from credit card fraud and hustling pool that was their life since mom’s long illness and death had left them with more debt than they could ever hope to pay back and meant most of what John earned honestly was taken away as soon as he got it.

He and Sam had only come into contact with Adam after their father’s death, when it had come to organizing the funeral and wiggling out of inheriting any of his debts. Since then Sam had been better at keeping contact than Dean had.

That’s probably why Adam stares at him in confusion after he opens the door.

“Hey.” Dean smiles and lifts the sixpack of beer he brought. “Been a while, hasn’t it? So I thought I’d drop by. Hope it’s not inconvenient.”

Adam blinks a few times, still just staring at him, before he catches himself. “A while? The last time I actually saw you was when our father died. But I think all the relatives we share are dead by now.” He pauses. “Wait, Sam isn’t dead, is he? I haven’t heard from him in a while.”

Well, that’s not the kind of welcome Dean had hoped for. “No, Sam’s fine.”

“So, what is it then? Do you need money or something? I’m afraid I’m not a full doctor yet, I barely make a living.”

Dean sighs. Definitely not the welcome he’d hoped for. “Can I come in?” He lifts the sixpack again. He’d brought it as a bribe after all.

“Sure.” Adam still looks like Dean is the Spanish inquisition or something, but at least he takes a step back to allow him in.

A narrow hallway leads into a room with a small kitchen niche, a messy bed in one corner, a TV and a small table in the other. The rest of the space is taken by bookcases. Adam points towards the only chair and sits on the bed, while Dean puts the beer on the table.

Now, how to approach this? Since Adam seems to think he wants something anyway, it’s probably best not to beat around the bush. And Dean has come up with a story on the way here.

“Okay, listen,” Dean says. “I am here to talk to you about something serious.” He takes a bottle of beer, opens it on the table, and holds it out to Adam.

His half brother takes it automatically. “So someone did die?”

Well, technically several someones died. That’s not a good way to start it, though. Dean ignores the question. “You know Sam’s a cop, right?”

Adam nods, looking even more confused now.

“Well, right now he’s doing some undercover work, and it’s a huge thing, and technically he isn’t supposed to talk about it.”

“So why are you talking about it, then?”

Great, just what he needed, another smartass little brother. “Because apparently, a friend of yours has stumbled on something that Sam’s investigating right now and that has to be treated very carefully, and she’s stirring up very dangerous people.” That’s at least not a complete lie.

Adam pauses with the beer bottle halfway to his lips. “You know you sound like someone from a cheap crime show, right?”

Dean shrugs. “You better believe me anyway, kid. As I said, Sam isn’t supposed to be talking about this. He sent me here, because you’re family, and you and your friend are in danger, if you don’t stop doing what you’re doing. He’s risking his own cover to keep you safe, you hear me?”

For a moment Adam just stares at him. “Holy shit,” he says finally. “You really aren’t kidding, are you?”

Well, good that’s finally sinking in. “So you’ll tell your friend to stop investigating?”

“Well, I can try. Doesn’t mean she’ll listen to me. I’m sure she’d be very happy to help, though.”

Dean shakes his head. “This is way above your paygrade. Just stay out of it, okay? Even if she won’t you will, you got that?”

Adam narrows his eyes. “Are you trying to order me around now?”

Oh, for fuck’s sake! Do all little brothers have to be like this? “Adam, you’re my brother and I’m trying to protect you!”

“You’ve only known me since I was nineteen. It’s not like we grew up together.”

“You’re still family.”

Adam huffs. “Okay, fine. Thanks for the warning. I’ll pass it on.”

It doesn’t sound too convinced, and when Dean leaves, he can only hope that Adam will listen to him. They’ll know soon thanks to the wiretap Dean had placed on the underside of Adam’s table.

* * *

“So I was right,” Billie says on the phone a few hours later.

Adam laughs. He’d chewed on what Dean had told him for a while, then he’d done some research. “Yes, you were right and there actually are some apparently very dangerous, murderous people out there. You must be so happy right now.”

“Oh, I am.” He can’t quite tell, if she’s being sarcastic or not.

“Listen,” Adam says. He’s debated for a while, if he should tell her that, but he doesn’t like how Dean had just show up here and acted like he has a say in what Adam’s doing with his life. Part of him doesn’t want to listen to the warning just because Dean wants him to listen to the warning. “I’m not saying you shouldn’t listen to my brother, but some things don’t add up.”

“Like what?” She sounds very interested now.

“Well, for one Sam quit his job at the police and moved back to live with Dean. I checked. And maybe that’s all an undercover work thing. But I’m not stupid. I know our father did some shady stuff and they did, too. It could as well be that they got involved with the wrong people and got their info from there.”

“Which means the police isn’t actually investigating this,” Billie finishes the thought.

“Yeah. I still believe Dean that there are dangerous people involved, though.”

“So we should dig more carefully,” Billie says. “Except if you want out. Then I should dig more carefully.”

Billie will probably get him killed one day, but Adam has to admit he’s curious, too. Just poking around a bit more without telling anyone, shouldn’t hurt, should it? “I’m in,” Adam says.

On the other side of the line he can almost hear Billie smile.


	12. A Waste of Paper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Sam does a stupid thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for this.

Sam feels like he should be creeping through the dark hallways of the building, and it’s actually hard not to. He’s a security guard, though. This is his job. He’s allowed to shine the beam of his flashlight into every corner. He doesn’t have to worry about people seeing him from outside.

It hadn’t taken long for him to get the job. Then it had taken way too long to convince Michael and Dean (because apparently the reason he’s treated like he belongs at the kid’s table right now is that his big brother and his boyfriend are getting their big brother acts up and worry about how he’s holding up) that he can get the info they need himself. No need to send Gabriel in here.

So instead they gave him Meg as backup. She’s staying outside in a car right now, just in case anything goes wrong, and he can talk to her over the headphones of his phone.

Sam stops in front of the door he knows leads to judge Bevell’s office. “I’m going in now.” He takes out his lockpicks. He’s not supposed to enter the offices, he’s supposed to keep the hallways safe. So he doesn’t have a key.

“Don’t get caught, too,” Meg says. “Michael almost ripped my head off after what happened with Lucifer. I don’t want to give him a second chance.”

Sam huffs. “Don’t worry.” While he speaks, Sam places the flashlight on the ground, angles it in a way that he can still see the lock. The door clicks open in no time, and Sam slips through.

“I’m in.” He shines the flashlight around, now careful to not point it at the window. There are shelves over shelves of law books, and a desk in the middle of the room.

Meg whistles. “Impressive lockpicking skills for an ex-cop.”

Carefully, Sam pulls the door close behind him, before he steps into the room. “I can’t even tell, if that’s supposed to be a compliment or an insult.”

That makes Meg laugh. “Pick whatever you like better.”

Sam ignores the legal texts and starts his search at the desk. Gabriel didn’t find anything on her email account, which means he’ll have to look for letters, notes, things like that. Gabriel also gave him something to rig judge Bevells phone with. He does that first, opens the receiver of her landline phone and puts the little device in Gabriel gave him. Then he starts looking through the papers on her desk.

“She prints her emails.”

Meg laughs again. “Concerned for the environment, Sam?”

Well, yes, it’s a stupid waste of paper, but it’s also just plain stupid. “I’m just saying, if you’re afraid to lose data, just make a backup. You don’t have to print every single thing someone sends you. Like this here.” He picks up a few papers that are held together by a paper clip. It’s an email from a certain Arthur Ketch. “This here just says: ‘I’ll pick you up at 8. Regards, Ketch.’ Was that really important enough to get printed?” Sam knows this is a stupid thing to be annoyed with. Even if Toni Bevell wanted to print every cat video on the internet frame by frame, it’s her problem, not his. But lots of things annoy him recently. He’s always so angry at everything, he can’t help it.

Sam puts the papers back, but then he stops. Something in the corner of the paper underneath the email has caught his attention. “I found an aquarian star.”

That’s something Gabriel had dug up. The aquarian star means the men of letters are involved. Sadly, this aquarian star is printed on an invitation to a charity ball. Not very incriminating.

When Sam tells Meg about it, she curses. “I bet they talked about something there that we could’ve used.” She stops. “Wait. Is this ball already over or is it something that’s still going to happen?”

Sam lifts the email on top and takes a look at the date. “Still going to happen. I’m taking a picture so Michael can send someone there.”

Sam snaps a picture of the invitation, and maybe he could actually leave now, wait and see what other people will dig up. But he’s come here to get results, so he’ll find something. His eyes go to the document shredder next to the desk. Maybe that’s worth a look.

A few minutes later he’s dug up a stripe of paper with the edge of an aquarian star on it that also seems to mention a certain Ketch. He knows that name. So he goes back to the printed out email on the desk. That email isn’t an answer to anything, he notices now. It’s just that Ketch telling the judge that he’ll pick her up at 8 o’clock. Since the email is paper clipped to the invitation for the ball there’s probably a connection. So Ketch definitely is her contact for the men of letters, isn’t he? Sam’s heart starts beating faster. He’s onto something for sure.

Since Ketch apparently knows how to write emails, maybe Sam can find some more clues somewhere with an actual search option. He starts the computer on the desk.

“Gabriel looked through her computer already,” Meg says.

“Yes, but without knowing that Ketch is a men of letters contact. I want to see what they’ve been talking about. Then I know which physical files I should take a closer look at.”

He finds quite a few emails from Ketch. The most recent ones are either cryptic or related to a case where a whole bunch of people are suing a corporation for not telling them there was asbestos in several buildings they lived in.

“Assholes,” Sam mumbles. “I bet she’s supposed to rule in favor of the corporation.”

“Google says she actually already did,” comes Meg’s voice. “Yesterday. Whatever they’re meeting about at the ball is something new.”

Well, this is shit, but it’s also the perfect blackmail material. Sam will have to talk to Michael about making this right after Lucifer is free again, though. Keeping their mouths shut about this forever feels wrong.

But for now he’s betraying his own rant by printing some of the emails by Ketch. He also goes to dig out the physical files Bevell has about the case. He finds them in folders in a file cabinet in the back at the room, neatly sorted by name. Quick glances show that it was pretty clear that the suing party was in the right. There was some evidence that got lost, though, and apparently Bevell also met with the defendant’s lawyers. Sam takes pictures of everything with his phone.

“Sam, get out of there! Bevell just entered the building! Planning to work late apparently.”

Oh no, not now! “I’m almost done,” Sam mumbles, while he keeps flipping pages and taking pictures.

“Sam! Now! If I fail in keeping an eye on you, Michael will not just rip my head off, he’ll cut it off slowly, using a rusty spoon.”

“I guess that sounds like him,” Sam finds himself agreeing distractedly. “Have you read about the guy he killed recently?”

“You’re definitely not helping right now.”

Sam takes a deep breath. “He’s not going to kill you, Meg.” Five more pages. The building is big. Bevell won’t be here that fast. “I’m almost done!” He repeats. He has to get the rest of this. This’ll get Lucifer out. Just five more pages. Four now. Three.

“For fuck’s sake, Sam! Get your ass out of there now or I’m going to trigger the fire alarm!”

“One minute.” Two more pages. One. Sam snaps the last picture, puts the files away again, and pockets his phone–right when there’s the sound of a key turning in the lock.

“Shit.”

“Let me guess.” Meg sounds resigned. “Too slow.”

Before Sam can answer, judge Toni Bevell steps into the room and turns the headlights on. When she spots Sam, she freezes. With furrowed brows she takes his appearance in, the flashlight and the security guard uniform.

“You’re not supposed to be in here,” she says finally.

“Just tell her you didn’t know that and the door wasn’t locked,” Meg hisses in his ear.

And yes, he could do that. But he could also just get this over with now and tell her what they want of her. That’d save time and get Lucifer out sooner. It’d mean Sam can actually do something more than just hand some files over to Michael and then wait for other people to do something about his boyfriend being locked up.

“I know,” he says. “But we got to talk.”

On the other side of the line, Meg sighs.

When Bevell hesitates, Sam pulls his gun and points it at her. “Step in and listen closely. I don’t want much, but I’m going to get it no matter what.”

* * *

“You know,” Meg says when Sam finally steps out of the building. She’s leaning against her car waiting for him, for a change no sardonic half-smile on her lips, which probably means she’s really pissed. “There’s a reason the boss usually sends specialists for things like that.”

“She agreed to rule in Lucifer’s favor,” Sam defends himself.

“Yes, genius. But she now also knows that you have connection to Lucifer. And you’re connected to Dean and Dean’s connected to the big boss. If she manages to identify you, we’re in a shitload of trouble. Michael will not just saw off my head with a rusty spoon, he’ll make me do it myself.” Meg opens the door for him and waves him into the car. “And now get in so we can face the dragon.”

Okay, yes, maybe Sam has acted a bit rash. But he’s so done with waiting. How much longer is Lucifer supposed to stay behind bars? “It’s my fault, I’ll explain it to him and I’ll accept the consequences,” he says.

“You better do,” Meg grumbles. “Because I’m sure as hell won’t be taking the blame for this.”


	13. Consequences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Michael is really pissed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy Michael getting angry with Sam.
> 
> Also: The bourbon bacon cocktail really exists. I could never come up with something like that by myself!

Michael listens to Meg’s report with a stony face. When she’s finished, Sam draws breath to take all the blame on himself, but Michael lifts a hand to cut him off.

“You can go, Meg.” That’s definitely the Godfather voice.

There’s a mix of relief and worry on Meg’s face.

“She couldn’t have done anything to–” Sam starts again.

“I know,” Michael interrupts him. “That’s why she can go. Oh, and Meg, take all the evidence Sam collected with you and bring it to Gabriel or Raphael. Whoever is available at the moment. They have to make sure Sam didn’t make more trouble for us by targeting something that was really important to the Men of Letters. This has top priority.”

Sam feels a pang of guilt. He hadn’t thought about that. Shit, he really can’t think straight right now, can he?

“Listen–” he says while Meg hurries out.

Michael interrupts him again. “No, you listen, Sam.”

The door falls shut behind Meg, and Michael steps around his desk and towards Sam, who has to fight to not take a step back. Damn it, he just wanted Lucifer out of prison as soon as possible! He wanted to help!

“You disobeyed my orders today!” Michael goes on. “And by doing so you potentially endangered our whole operation. You know what usually happens to people who do something like that?”

“They end up dead?” Sam asks. He isn’t sure, if he should be genuinely afraid. Michael wouldn’t actually kill him, would he? Explaining that to Dean and Lucifer would be pretty hard. On the other hand, it’s a testament to how much Sam fucked up that Dean and Lucifer might be the only thing keeping him alive. Shit. That really hadn’t been his intention.

Michael just stares at him for a moment as if he actually considers sending him for a swim with the fishes. Sam feels very, very small all of a sudden, even though Michael is looking up to meet his eyes. After a moment he lowers his gaze. “I accept whatever consequences you see fit.”

He can hear Michael sigh. “You’re definitely too much like Lucifer, but at least you’re slightly less stubborn and prideful.”

A phone ringing interrupts whatever he’s going to say next. “Hold the thought about the consequences,” Michael says, before he answers the call.

Sam peeks up between a few strands of hair that have fallen into his eyes, and sees Michael’s face getting even darker. Oh great.

“He did WHAT?”

Sam flinches a little, when Michael raises his voice. Hopefully this isn’t about Lucifer. Though he has a bad feeling it is.

“Is he going to make it?” For a while Michael listens, and Sam’s heart clenches. “Make sure he gets the best medical treatment money can buy. Discretely of course. But the last thing we need right now is Lucifer being charged for another murder.”

Sam can’t help it, he breathes a sigh of relief. Of course this is still bad news, but at least Lucifer is alright.

When Michael hang up, he clenches his phone so tight, Sam swears he can hear the screen crack. He looks at Sam with cold and calculating eyes, though. “You’ll accept whatever I decide in terms of consequences? No arguing?”

That doesn’t sound good at all, but Sam swallows and nods.

“Good.” Michael turns towards the door. “Come with me then.”

* * *

Dean swears this is the last time they do a “We’ll mix you any cocktail you want” kind of event. Who the fuck thought bourbon and bacon is a good combination? And then also decided to add worcestershire sauce to the mix? Who the fuck thought bacon and worcestershire sauce are a good ingredients for a cocktail in the first place? He likes all three things – separately! There are things you just don’t do to food.

Even Sasha watches with slight horror on his face, while Dean drapes a slice of bacon over the rim of the glass. Kevin looks like he’s going to throw up. Dean totally feels for the kid. He slides the drink to the person who ordered it, before the smell can make him never want bacon ever again.

The door opening catches his eye. Dean smiles, when he sees that it’s Michael who enters. His smile falters a bit, though, when he sees the look in Michael’s eyes. Something bad happened. Something really bad.

After Michael comes Sam, who looks a bit like a kicked puppy with hanging shoulders and guilt on his face. Uh oh.

“Sammy,” Dean greets them as soon as they’re in earshot, “what did you do?”

Sam looks away. Fuck.

Dean turns to his boyfriend. “What did my brother do?”

Michael just nods towards the backroom. Double fuck. Dean turns to Kevin. “Take over for a while, will you?”

* * *

They settle in in Dean’s office with Sasha standing guard at the door to make sure no one is listening in. Michael gives a very short recap of what happened, leaving out most of the details. Dean knows better than to ask for them. What’s pretty clear, though, is that Sammy fucked up big time and judging by his kicked puppy look he knows that very well.

Dean turns to his brother. “Fucking hell, Sammy!”

“I’m sorry, Dean.”

“Well, sorry is not gonna buy us anything.” He should’ve known it. Sam’s head is not in the game right now. He should’ve paid more attention, made sure Sam stayed out of trouble. With a sigh, Dean turns to Michael again. “But you didn’t drag him here so I can give him a lecture, did you?”

Michael shakes his head. “I’m here, because I’m going to do something to your brother you won’t like, and I need you to at least grudgingly agree to it, before I do it.”

Dean throws Sam a questioning look, but his brother just shrugs. So he doesn’t know yet either. “I’m already thrilled,” Dean says in a dry voice.

That gets him a slight smile from Michael. It occurs to Dean that his boyfriend of course doesn’t have to ask his permission for anything. He could do with Sam whatever he wants, it’s not like Dean could stop him. That he asks anyway is a very good sign regarding their relationship.

“But I’m listening.”

Michael nods his thanks and leans forward on the couch he’s sitting on. “That wasn’t all of the bad news yet. Crowley just called. Lucifer almost killed his cellmate.”

Oh great. Dean sees Sam mouth a silent ‘Fuck’ so he hadn’t know that yet either.

“Lucifer claims the man tried to kill him first,” Michael goes on. “Maybe some of the remaining friends of Alastair set him onto it. I don’t know. I just know he has no one in there who’s watching his back and he isn’t handling being locked up well in general. And your little brother is out here going crazy over being separated from him.”

“Wait,” Sam says. “Are you implying that–”

Michael lifts his hand to cut him off. Most of the time Dean enjoys watching him do that, because he can do it with literally anyone, even seasoned mafia killers. Right now Dean’s a bit too occupied with worrying, though.

“You,” Michael says and points at Sam, “agreed to doing whatever I tell to do. So you’ll shut up and do just that. All I need is for your brother to not hate me over this.”

Sam shoots him a bitchface, but he doesn’t say anything else. He’s really feeling guilty, isn’t he? Then it occurs to Dean what Michael is getting at.

“Wait, are you planning on sending Sam into prison with Lucifer?”

Michael shrugs and nods. “On a minor offense, so we can get him out again easily later. But I think right now they’d be better at keeping each other safe than they’re at keeping themselves safe.”

“I’ll do it!” Sam says way too fast for Dean’s liking. He sounds almost relieved.

“Wait, wait!” His brother in prison? With Lucifer? That has trouble written all over it. “You’re planning on sending Sam somewhere where people are trying to kill your brother right now?”

“I can deal with that!” Sam protests.

“We’re picking the remaining guards off one by one right now,” Michael adds. “They should all be taken care of soon. Then our little brothers’ only job would be to keep each other out of trouble. Lucifer would probably pull it together for his boyfriend’s sake.” 

And of course Sam can’t do anything unauthorized anymore, if he’s locked up. Dean nods to show that he got the idea. “I don’t like this,” he says at the same time.

Michael locks eyes with him, and his own are kinda calculating, but not all the way cold. And since he’s come home all bloody, because he’d killed a guy out of worry for Lucifer, the Godfather mode doesn’t bother Dean that much anymore anyway. He isn’t afraid of Michael locking all of his feelings away. He gets now that they’re still there, even when Michael doesn’t show them. And his boyfriend definitely knows how this feels for Dean. That’s why he came to him to tell him about his plans in the first place. “I’m not asking you to like it,” Michael says. “We just have to be on the same page about this.”

“Dean,” Sam says at the same time. “I can do this. I want to do this. I’d much rather be with Lucifer in prison than spend my time out here feeling helpless.” And there they are, the puppy eyes. “Please.”

Michael just looks at Dean intently, waiting for him to make a decision. And there’s no arguing against this, is there? Dean sighs. “Fine. I still think this is a stupid idea, but I’m not going to get mad at you for doing it.”

Michael smiles. “That’s all I wanted to hear.”


	14. First Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Billie gets daring while held at gun point.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Billie and Raphael finally meet!

“Adam!” Billie greets him, when he approaches her table at the club. She picked on on the balcony above the dance floor. She already has a drink in front of her, and as he leans against the table opposite to her a waitress puts a beer in front of him. “I ordered for you,” Billie adds. “If you don’t like it, there’s probably someone else who will.”

Adam takes a sip from the beer and nods his thanks. “You know you have eerily good timing with this.” He hadn’t told her when he’d show up. He had been in a hospital in the other side of the city doing some research. “I’m almost convinced you order something in regular intervals and just give it away, if I don’t show up, just so it looks like you know when I show up.”

Billie grins. “Interesting theory. But you’re actually just easy to spot.” She points at his tan jacket and then at the people on the dance floor below them who wear mostly black. “And you took your time getting up here.”

Okay, yes. Adam had bumped into someone he knew on his way to her table and if you refuse to wear black in a goth club you do stand out. “I like my explanation better,” he says anyway.

That makes Billie laugh. Then she leans forward. “Learned something?”

Adam nods. He looks around, but there’s no one particularly near them and the music is loud enough to cover all conversations. He’s also not sure what to make of the fact that his life has come to a point where he’s worrying about things like that. Maybe he should’ve listened to Dean, but admitting that now would feel even worse than having listened from the start. “My friend Alex went through the database of her hospital for me, and we found two more guards from Purgatory prison who have been in accidents lately. One of them is in a coma right now, they’re not sure, if he’ll make it. The other one will not be able to work for a while.”

“Hm …” Billie pushes her glass from one hand into the other. “So we have five prison guards by now who are either dead or badly injured.”

“Well, one was a _retired_ prison guard,” Adam says. “And that’s the only one who has without question been murdered.” That’s the most scary thing actually, because even if you look at those accidents asking yourself, if they could have been staged, it’s not always obvious how. And some are just the usual, faulty cars or kitchen items, but one involved an actual alligator that had somehow escaped the zoo and found its way into the victim’s house.

Billie looks at him with squinted eyes. “Are you saying it could be coincidence?”

“Only if fate has a really weird sense of humor and recently developed a hate for prison guards,” Adam says dryly. “I’m just not sure what to think about a guy who’s at times crazy enough to use an alligator as a murder weapon, but at other times just freakishly effective and works very low-key.”

“Maybe it’s more than one person,” Billie says.

Oh shit. Of course. “Well, that’s reassuring.”

Billie smiles. “You know, if you want out, you can always get out.”

“And leave you to deal with people who use alligators as murder weapons alone?” Adam asks. “Listen, we disagree in a lot of things. Like what can still be considered music or if black should be the only color in your wardrobe. But I totally agree with you that someone should look into this, and apparently no one else does. So we have to. As long as you’re in, I’m in.”

That makes Billie smile even wider.

* * *

It’s pretty late when Billie leaves the club. She’d acted as Adam’s wing woman to get the attention of a girl he left with a while ago. So now she’s alone on her way to the nearest subway station, and she’s almost sure she can hear footsteps behind her, but when she turns there’s no one there. It was probably a bad idea to take the shortcut through the back alleys, but turning back now wouldn’t make much of a difference. So she just squares her shoulders and pushes on, not too fast, but at a pace that says that she knows exactly where she’s going and will not tolerate being held up.

Apparently, the message is clear enough. When she steps into the subway, she breathes a sigh of relief. There is someone standing on platform though, looking directly at her while the train starts moving. It’s the woman she’s seen before, at the hospital. She doesn’t do anything, just watches her until she’s out of sight. And usually a hot woman watching her would be a nice thing, but right now it’s kind of creepy.

And again, there are footsteps behind her, when she walks from her stop back to her apartment. But they stop shortly before Billie reaches the door.

Maybe she’s getting paranoid. All that talk about murders can do that to you. It’s probably nothing. After all, she’s not the only person in this city. Other people have to get from A to B at night, too.

By the times she unlocks her door, she’s almost convinced that she’s just imagining things. She kicks her boots off and shrugs out of her coat – and when she looks up again, there’s a woman standing next to the door to her living room. Again, it’s the one from the hospital, the one that had stared at her at the train station. And she has a gun in hand that’s pointed right at Billie. “Welcome home, Billie. Step in, we need to talk.”

Billie’s heart jumps and then races on. Shit. She really wishes she’d imagined someone following her. He pulse speeds up, and it’s definitely not smart, but her first instinct is to look around for a weapon. There’s the scythe on the wall opposite to the coat rack. Adam likes to make fun of it and it’s purely there for aesthetic reasons and Billie isn’t even sure, if it’s really sharp, but–

“Seriously?” The woman asks. She has the nerve to sound amused. “You know the space here is too narrow to even swing that thing, do you?”

It’s unnerving that she’s probably right. “How did you get here so fast?” Billie asks to win some time. “You missed the train.”

The woman smiles. “That’s not what I came here to talk about. Come on now. You have a nice couch in your living room. Take a seat.”

And it’s not like Billie has much of a choice.

* * *

Billie takes the couch and her visitor the armchair across from her. The woman leans back as if she feels completely at home, gun pointing loosely at Billie. She watches her like a hawk, though. Billie is pretty sure, if she makes a wrong move, she’ll catch a bullet immediately.

So she just takes a few deep breaths to calm her still hammering heart and takes a closer look at her visitor. She’s wearing dark tight fitting clothes, like you would, if you wanted to break into someone’s house. They show off a slim, athletic figure. There’s a leather jacket hanging over the backrest of the armchair, that’s probably pretty useful, if you want to carry a concealed gun in public. Her hair is pulled back in a pony tail, and Billie had been right the first time she saw her, she’s really beautiful in a regal kind of way.

“I’ll make this short,” her visitor says. “We really need you to stop looking into those deaths you’ve been investigating.”

“You mean murders,” Billie says.

There’s a faint smile on the woman’s lips. “Tragic accidents.”

“I guess, if I don’t, I’ll have a tragic accident, too?” How did they even realize that Billie had still been investigating? She and Adam had been careful, hadn’t they? Adam’s hospital visit today could’ve as well been him visiting a friend at work. And she’d told no one about her findings. Had they been listening in to their phone calls or something like that?

Her visitor’s smile gets a bit more pleased. “I see you’re following. We’d like to avoid that, though. That’s why I’m here to talk.”

Something about the way she says that makes Billie think. This is the second warning they’re getting, isn’t it? The first came from Adam’s brother. Someone really wants to avoid killing them, someone who has no trouble at all killing other people. There has to be more behind it. “Is it because of Adam?” Billie asks.

Her visitor tilts her head a little, frowning.

“Oh, it is, isn’t it?” Now it’s on Billie to smile and she relaxes a little. “Someone you’re working for has a personal interest in Adam staying alive.” Maybe Adam had been right and his brother really got involved with the wrong people.

For a moment, her visitor just stares at her, then she shrugs. “Maybe. I can assure you, though, no one has a personal interest in you staying alive. It would be less trouble for us, if you just stopped, but …” She moves the gun just a tiny bit as if to draw Billie’s attention back to it. “... we’re good at dealing with trouble.”

Well, there’s only one right answer in this situation anyway. Billie leans back on the couch and slides her best poker face in place. “Okay,” she says.

Her visitor does that head tilt again. “Okay?”

“Okay, I’ll stop.”

That gets her a half annoyed, half amused snort. “I don’t believe you.”

“What do you want me to say then? You’re not expecting me to sound enthusiastic about this, do you?”

Her visitor smiles. “No. I want you to sound convinced.” She slides her free hand into the pocket of her leather jacket. “I know you’re headstrong and proud and that you probably won’t give in to threats on principle. That’s why I brought this.” She pulls out a few pieces of folded paper and throws them on the coffee table between them. When Billie just stares at them, her visitor leans back again. “Go on. Look at them.”

Slowly, Billie leans forward, picks the papers up and unfolds them. They’re reports of some sort, some from doctors, some seem to be from prison guards. There are a few pictures too of people in orange overalls covered in bruises. “What is this supposed to tell me?” she asks.

“Purgatory prison has a long history of mistreating prisoners,” her visitor says. “We’re talking physical mistreatment, but also putting them in solitary confinement longer than allowed or into a darkened cell. The medical reports you see here are from a prison doctor who started complaining about it, but was fired not much later. It took quite a while to dig his reports up, they were hidden well.”

“Oh.” Slowly, Billie starts putting the pieces together. “So you’re trying to tell me you’re doing a good deed by taking out the guards who did this?”

Her visitor shrugs. “Basically. Figured it might make you feel better about letting this go.”

Billie looks down at the reports and the photos again. It actually does make her a bit less inclined to dig deeper. “They should be brought to justice,” she says anyway. “I mean in the normal way. Take this to the right places, get them locked up themselves.”

“Your trust in our judicial system is kind of cute.” The other woman sounds amused again. “The doctor whose reports you’re holding tried that already. He lost his job for his trouble.”

Okay, that’s a good point. Billie stares at the photos again. “You’re not doing this out of the goodness of your heart, though, are you?”

Suddenly all the amusement vanishes from her visitor’s face. “They did it to my brother, too.”

Oh. Oh shit. That explains a lot of things. “And you got particularly angry about it with Brad Buckner, eh?” Billie knows she shouldn’t ask questions like that, but the thought that the woman sitting across from her killed a man by stabbing him repeatedly while his hands were basically nailed to the bed frame to keep him from struggling makes the threat all the more real.

She gets a tight smile as an answer. “That was my other brother.”

Okay, that it wasn’t her personally is slightly comforting. “Remind me to never make him angry.”

“Well, keeping you from pissing him off is why I’m here.”

Billie swallows. “Good point.” And just to try and see how crazy exactly her visitor is, she adds: “What about the alligator?”

The other woman rolls her eyes. “That was my other, other brother.”

“Nice family you have there.”

Her visitor chuckles, then she leans forward again, while her gun still stays pointed at Billie, no matter how she moves. “Now, can you promise me to stop investigating?”

Billie bites her lower lip, thinking. Her visitor has made a few very good points. The reports look genuine. And it’s not like she wants to die a gruesome death. If that’s all there is to it, she can let this go, even though it hurts her pride a little. But what if this is only half the truth? What does Adam’s brother have to do with all of this? That question is still bugging her.

Also, now that she’s pretty sure she’s not in any kind of immediate danger, she can’t help but notice again how beautiful her visitor is. And she seems to have a sense of humor too. And Billie may have a bit of a thing for the dangerous type. She could maybe find out more about the people she’s dealing with without pissing them off more. And have a bit of fun at the same time.

“I can, if you promise to go on a date with me.”

Her visitor lifts an eyebrow. Then, after a moment, she does that head tilt again. “You’re serious, are you?”

“Of course I’m serious.”

For a moment, Billie’s visitor lets her gaze drift over her, checking her out. When her eyes meet again, there’s a slight smile on her lips. “I just threatened you and you want to go on a date with me?”

“Well,” Billie says, “apart from the fact that trying to get your number was my first thought when I saw you weeks ago at the hospital, going on a date with you may also lead to you having a personal interest in not killing me next time I do something you might want to threaten me for.”

“Ah.” Her visitor’s brown eyes sparkle with amusement. “Interesting thought. How about tomorrow night?”

Wow, this is really working! Billie smiles brightly. “I’m free tomorrow night. Pick me up here? Since you’re probably not going to tell me where you live. Oh, and do I get a name or do I have to make up a nickname?”

Her visitor returns her smile. “Make up a nickname.”

This is definitely the most surreal way to get a date ever, but Billie gets the feeling she’ll be enjoying herself. “Oh, come on. At least give me the first letter.”

“Okay. It’s R.”

Well, that’s probably a start.

A moment later, R leaves through the window with the promise of seeing her again soon. And Billie starts trying to come up with a way to tell Adam about this. He’ll probably tell her that she’s crazy. Well, he’ll definitely tell her that she’s crazy.


	15. Arrested

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Sam finally gets what he wants.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took me way too long to get to this part of the story.
> 
> **Warnings** : There's a blowjob in this chapter. Well, technically two, though they're both not described in much detail, because I'm lazy as fuck. But I thought I'd at least try and earn the E rating of this story.

** Archangel Chat **

**Michael** : Please, tell me you didn’t say yes.

**Raphael** : If I keep her close, I can keep an eye on her.

**Gabriel** : You still think she’s hot, don’t you?

**Raphael** : I never said she’s hot!

**Michael** : Could you please not start that again?

**Gabriel** : Sis, she asked you out for a date while you were pointing a gun at her. She’s a keeper, trust me.

**Michael** : Gabriel, you’re not supposed to encourage her!

**Raphael** : Michael, even if I was seriously interested in her, which I’m not, you have no right to tell me to keep away from her. Lucifer did the exact same thing with Sam.

**Gabriel** : Raphe has a point there. And Lucifer managed to get Sam on our side that way.

**Michael** : Lucifer managed to get Sam on our side, because Sam would literally kill for his brother.

**Raphael** : His brother who’s your boyfriend, by the way, and who we’re making exceptions for basically since the day you laid eyes on him.

**Gabriel** : She has a point there, too.

**Michael** : All I’m saying is, don’t expect it to work out the way it worked out with Sam.

**Raphael** : I’m not expecting anything.

**Michael** : Fine.

**Gabriel** : Look, Raphe, big bro gave his blessings! No need to lie to yourself anymore. You know you want her!

**Raphael** : I’m not lying to myself!

**Michael** : I didn’t give any blessings!

**Gabriel** : Man, I really wish Lucifer was here to help me make fun of this.

**Raphael** : Fuck you, Gabriel.

**Michael** : Fuck you, Gabriel.

**Gabriel** : Wow. Now I feel honored.

* * *

Dean leans back in Michael’s desk chair and watches his boyfriend. In theory, Michael only smokes on the balcony outside his room. In praxis, there’s a cigarette between his lips right now, while he half sits on the sill of the open window in his office. From time to time he absentmindedly takes a pull on it. Most of the time he seems to forget it’s there while he’s typing away on his phone.

Dean looks around on Michael’s desk. He knows he shouldn’t, but right now he’s way too nervous to be careful not to learn too much. Sam is about to be arrested. That’s why Dean is here in the first place. They both know he’ll do something stupid, if he’s around while it happens.

But sitting here and waiting and doing nothing …

He spies a few pieces of paper with the aquarian star on it. That’s the Men of Letters symbol, isn’t it? The thing Sammy messed up. That makes Dean lean forward and pull the papers closer.

“You know that the more you know the more hassle we’re going to have, if you ever want to break up, do you, Dean?”

When Dean looks up, hand still on the papers, Michael is looking directly at him, while he takes one more drag on the cigarette.

“Where’s that coming from all of a sudden?” Michael has never mentioned breaking up ever before, and Dean isn’t sure how he should feel about it getting mentioned now.

“I’m just saying. I pulled you into this life and it’s making trouble for you and your family ever since.”

Oh, someone is feeling guilty? Pointedly Dean starts pulling the papers closer again while he keeps eye contact with his boyfriend. After a moment, Michael smiles.

Satisfied, Dean turns his attention to the papers. It’s about that gala thing judge Bevell had been invited to. That much Dean already knew. Michael has made some notes in the margins, and Dean furrows his brows while reading them. “You’re going to send Meg and Cas to this? Cas? For a social gathering? Seriously?”

Out of the corner of his eye he can see Michael shrug. “He only has to eat canapés and listen to conversations. And we only got an invitation for a woman plus one. Meg ist a good choice and she and Castiel can convincingly act as a couple.”

“So can Meg and Balthazar, and Balthazar actually knows how to hold a conversation.”

Michael lifts an eyebrow in surprise. After a moment he nods. He puts his cigarette out in the ashtray on the window sill next to him and walks over. Half leaning over Dean he strikes Castiel’s name through and replaces it with Balthazar’s. Dean feels a surge of pride.

When Michael looks up from the papers, their faces are close, and Dean takes a deep breath. He smells mostly cigarette smoke, just a hint of Michael’s own scent, but it’s enough to make some of his nervousness slip away.

“When do you think will we hear about Sam?” he asks anyway. Since Dean is in the archangel mansion and therefore safe, it’s Sasha’s job to keep close to Sam and call them as soon as he’s arrested.

“It’ll take a while longer,” Michael says. “Settle in and try not to worry.”

“Sorry, but have you met me?” It comes out a bit too harsh, but Michael just huffs and leans over him, placing his hands on the armrests of both sides of Dean.

“Relax,” he says in a voice that doesn’t allow any argument.

Dean feels like arguing, though. He can’t relax while Sam is about to be thrown into prison. “He’s an ex-cop. What if someone in there recognizes him?” he asks.

Michael sighs. “He was a cop in a completely different city. There’ll be no one in Purgatory prison who recognizes him.”

Yes, okay, that sounds likely. It’s not like there’s some big prison exchange program for inmates or something.

“Relax,” Michael says again. He leans a bit closer and places a kiss on Dean’s lips. Before he can straighten up again, Dean’s hand comes up and grabs the front of his shirt to hold his boyfriend in place while he kisses back properly.

When he leans back again, Dean feels a bit better. He grins up at Michael. “At least I don’t run around murdering people, when I worry about my younger siblings.”

For a moment Michael looks guilty, then he shrugs. “Let me know, if you ever want to. That could be arranged.”

With narrowed eyes Dean stares at his boyfriend, not sure, if this is supposed to be a joke a not. After a moment he just goes with it. “You’d come along and make sure I don’t mess up?” he jokes.

Michael smiles. “I’d come along.”

“Sounds like a romantic date for our next anniversary,” Dean deadpans.

Michael huffs a laugh and inches closer, one of his legs pushing Dean’s knees apart. And yes, that seems like a very good idea to pass the time. Again Dean pulls Michael down by the front of his shirt. The next moment Michael’s lips are on Dean’s again and one of Michael’ hands pulls up Dean’s shirt a little to find skin underneath. His fingers leave a warm trail along the hem of Dean’s jeans. By now Dean doesn’t really hope anymore that the phone will ring soon.

Michael seems to plan with it not taking forever, though. At least he’s in quite a hurry, which he usually isn’t. He finds the button of Dean’s jeans and he nudges him to get his ass up so he can pull the pants down. Dean obliges happily and is a moment later rewarded with Michael dropping to his knees between his legs. And the way Michael looks up at him from there is just fucking gorgeous. 

Dean grins. “If you’d asked me to relax like that to begin with, I would’ve been on board way sooner.”

“Should’ve known that would work.” With that Michael kisses up the inside of Dean’s tigh, and then his tongue swirls around the tip of Dean’s dick and makes him gasp.

It definitely works. At least mostly. There’s still a part of Dean that worries, though.

By the time Dean has come and they’ve switched places the phone still hasn’t rung. But the fact that Michael twists his fingers into his hair just the way Dean likes it and bucks up into his mouth is a pretty good distraction, too.

It’s also a very good thing that the phone doesn’t ring by the time Michael throws his head back and comes. But if a tiny part of Dean’s attention hadn’t been with the phone, it probably wouldn’t have taken him in surprise and he probably wouldn’t have choked and sputtered a bit, before he manages to swallow everything.

“Sorry,” Michael says as soon as he’s come down from his high.

Dean pops off and leans his head against Michael’s thigh. “Not your fault. All good.”

Michael’s fingers card through Dean’s hair. “Sam will be alright, I promise. Lucifer is with him.”

Dean huffs. “That’s one of the reasons I worry.”

Michael gives a breathless laugh. “Fair enough.”

That’s when the phone fucking finally rings. Michael answers it. “Yes,” he says. Then after a while: “Thank you.”

When he hangs up, he looks down at Dean. “It’s done.”

That really doesn’t help Dean worry less.

He worries all through Sam’s very short trial and starts worrying even more as soon as the sentence has been passed.

* * *

Sam steps into the cell with his hands cuffed in front of him. He spies Lucifer sitting on the lower bunk, and breathes a sigh of relief. It worked. He’s where he’s supposed to be. He doesn’t know what kind of levers Michael had to pull to accomplish it, but it definitely worked.

The relief gets stuck in Sam’s throat, when Lucifer looks up. There’s a big bruise on his left cheek and his usually piercing blue eyes are dull and without much hope. He blinks at Sam, when he sees him as if he can’t quite believe he’s there.

Sam lifts a finger to his lips, before he follows the prison guard’s order to turn around. The man opens the handcuffs, then he steps out. He grins in a less than nice way. “Have fun.”

Sam kind of hopes that one is on Michael’s list.

As soon as the door has fallen shut, Sam can hear movement behind him. A hand lands on his shoulder, and he’s spun around. For a moment, Lucifer just stares at him. “It’s really you,” he finally says in disbelief.

Sam smiles. Suddenly he realizes how empty his world has felt without Lucifer in it. How it feels like he’s now finally whole again. “It’s really me. Michael sends me to watch your back.”

A tiny bit of light returns into Lucifer’s eyes. “As soon as I get out, I’ll have to kick his ass for sending you in here.” Then he grabs Sam and kisses him like it’s the only thing keeping him alive.


	16. Of improvised Weapons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Sam and Lucifer celebrate their reunion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warning** : Okay, there's a poor excuse for porn in this chapter, including a bit of breath play.
> 
> Also featured: Lots of emotions.

After the first passionate greeting, Lucifer backs away again. He walks to the door as if he’s afraid someone might listen in, checks through the small window there, then walks back. He looks like a caged animal pacing, and it hurts Sam’s heart to see him like that. “You shouldn’t have come here. My former cellmate tried to kill me! The guards set him up to it.”

“I know,” Sam says. “That’s part of why I’m here.”

“No, no, no!” Lucifer pulls his hair. “You don’t understand! Now I have to make sure you’re safe, too!”

Oh, that’s how it’s going to be? Sam puts on a light bitchface, crosses his arms in front of him and leans against the side of the bunk bed. “ _You_ have to make sure I’m safe? So you’re saying I’m a burden?”

That makes Lucifer stop. He looks at Sam like he only just realized what he said. His face goes a bit softer. “Sam, I don’t doubt that you can hold yourself in a fight, but whoever’s making trouble for us here has the guards on their side. They’re not fighting fair.”

“That’s exactly why you need someone to watch your back!” Sam insists. “How have you been sleeping recently, hm?”

Lucifer sighs and drags one hand over his face. “Not much,” he admits.

“See!”

Lucifer huffs and starts pacing again. “If Michael wanted to send someone for backup, he could’ve sent someone else.”

And that actually hurts. Sam has to swallow, before he can answer. “So you don’t trust me to have your back?”

This time Lucifer stops right in his steps and stares at Sam as if he’d just severely insulted him. “What? No! For fuck’s sake, Sam, I don’t trust _myself_ to have _your_ back in return! I’m a mess right now in case you haven’t noticed. Michael should’ve sent someone expendable. Someone I care less about. If something happens to you in here, it’s my fucking fault, don’t you see?”

And just like that, all of Sam’s anger melts away. He steps forward and grabs Lucifer by the shoulders. Their eyes meet and Sam takes a deep breath, forces himself to calm down so he can project it outwards. “First of all,” he starts. “I came here out of my own free will. It was my choice. I know the risks. If something happens to me, it’s my fault, not yours.”

Lucifer opens his mouth to protest, but Sam just talks over him. “Second, I trust you. You know I trust you with my life. If you can trust me too, there’s no one more dangerous in this prison than us together. We’ll watch out for each other and we’ll get out of here alive.”

It takes a moment, but then he can feel Lucifer relax a little with a slow exhale. A shimmer of interest replaces the worry in his eyes, and he tilts his head to the side just a little. “You trust me with your life? You mean that?”

Sam snorts a laugh in surprise. That of all things is the question Lucifer choses to ask? “‘Course I do. I allowed you to point a loaded gun right at my heart once, didn’t I?”

A curious expression flits over Lucifer’s face. “I thought that was more a thrill of danger thing not so much a trust thing.”

“Well, yes it was a thrill of danger thing,” Sam admits. “But I don’t want to actually get shot, so I wouldn’t let you do it, if I didn’t trust you.”

Lucifer gives a thoughtful hum and nods to concede the point. “This is something different, though. I can’t control what happens in here. Half the time I can’t control myself in here. I just ... snap.”

Yeah, they’d all realized that. Sam shrugs. “Michael is convinced you’d be able to behave for my sake.”

That makes Lucifer’s nostrils flare in anger. “That manipulating little shit! He really used you as a pawn.”

“I’m here of my own free will,” Sam reminds him.

Lucifer scoffs. All of a sudden, he grabs the front of Sam’s prison overall and pushes. Sam goes with the movement until his back hits the wall. “You don’t understand!” Lucifer says close to his face. “Half the time I feel like the walls are closing in to bury me alive, and the other half I’m too high on adrenalin to care. I’m constantly angry, because that at least keeps me somewhat sane. I can’t even guarantee that _I_ wouldn’t hurt you!”

Shit. Lucifer is even worse off than Sam had imagined, but he isn’t afraid for his own sake. This is his boyfriend after all. Even though his instincts tell him to react to the sudden aggression, Sam forces himself to stay calm. “That’s bullshit,” he says.

Apparently Lucifer had expected a different reaction, because he blinks in surprise.

Sam smiles, gently puts his hands on Lucifer’s hips and pulls him closer. “You know, when you’re a cop, you have to deal with domestic violence eventually. And there’s something I realized.”

Calmer now, Lucifer tilts his head to the side in question.

“All the people hurting their spouses,” Sam goes on, “they claim they were just so angry they couldn’t help themselves. But all of them always managed to keep it together while other people were present, for example. They always deliberately waited until they were alone. So apparently they could help themselves. It’s always a choice, and you’re either an asshole who thinks using your loved ones as a punching bag is okay or you aren’t. And _you_ aren’t. You’d never hurt me. I get you’re in a bad place right now and I can deal with you snapping at me now and then or whatever. But that’s the worst that’ll happen. You have lots of other things to worry about, don’t worry about that.”

For a moment Lucifer just looks at him, then the hint of a smile becomes visible around the corners of his lips. He leans in. “You’re unbelievable.” With that their lips meet for another kiss.

It doesn’t take long until Lucifer’s hands start to wander. He finds the zipper of Sam’s overall and pulls it down as far as it goes, making Sam shiver as cold air hits his skin. And that’s technically an improvement to how Lucifer was acting before, but Sam can’t help his eyes flitting to the little window in their door. It’s not like they have much privacy here. “What if we get caught?”

Lucifer nibbles along the line of Sam’s jaw, sending little sparks of pleasure along his nerves, successfully distracting him from his worries. “To be honest, probably no one would be surprised. You heard the way the guard wished you good luck. They expect me to do all kinds of nasty things to you. I mean, I almost killed my last cellmate. Don’t think they’d put anything beyond me by now.”

“So, the only thing they’d be surprised about is, if you’re too gentle?” Sam tilts his head back so Lucifer can kiss along his throat.

That makes Lucifer laugh. “So you want it rougher?”

“Do your worst.” It takes Sam a moment to find Lucifer’s zipper without looking, then he pulls it down, too.

“Well, Mr. Danger Kink,” Lucifer says, “I can’t offer a gun, but there’s a shiv hidden underneath the mattress of the lower bunk.”

Of course Lucifer would’ve by now managed to make a blade out of whatever material he could get his hands on. Sam still pushes him back a little and shoots him a skeptical look. “No risking getting caught with things we might actually need later.”

“Fine. We’ll make do then.” In a slow, very deliberate motion Lucifer puts his forearm against Sam’s throat, pushes back until the back of Sam’s head connects with the wall. A little more pressure and he’d start cutting off Sam’s air supply, and that makes Sam’s pulse go faster, makes him forget where they are. Lucifer stops there for a moment as if he’s waiting for Sam to protest. Instead, Sam throws him a cocky grin and moves his hips against Lucifer’s.

“You really trust me with your life?” Lucifer asks.

“Sure.” Sam’s almost sure he can see Lucifer’s pupils blow wide when he says that. He laughs. “Didn’t realize you had such a big trust kink. Otherwise I’d have let you do things like this more often.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

His boyfriend takes that as an invitation and increases the pressure until it’s kind of hard to breathe, though not completely impossible. He watches Sam intently, and Sam meets his gaze through half closed lids.

“I’m still worried I might do something stupid that’ll endanger you,” Lucifer says in a low voice. “I wouldn’t trust myself to make even remotely reasonable decisions right now.”

The shortage of oxygen starts making Sam dizzy and he can hear his own heartbeat loud in his ears. His fingers dig into Lucifer’s hips and arousal coils low in his belly. Lucifer reminding him just how on edge he is right now just makes it all even better in a way. Not that Sam thinks that he’s actually in danger. It’s a weird mix of trusting that he’s safe and knowing lots of other people wouldn’t be, locked into a cell with Lucifer.

Lucifer narrows his eyes while he watches Sam. “You’d really let me do this until you pass out, wouldn’t you?” He looks fiercely satisfied with that thought. Then he lets up, and Sam draws big gulps of air.

As soon as his breathing is at least somewhat even again, Sam chooses to ignore the second comment and only answer the first. “You were never good at making reasonable decisions.”

That makes Lucifer smile. “Good point. I really hope Michael didn’t think you’d be better in that regard. I mean, you always act like you’re oh so sensible, but look at you right now.” 

Sam huffs a laugh. “I missed you.” It’s out without him even thinking about wanting to say it. He missed the back and forth between them, the way they just fit.

Lucifer hums. He puts his free hand flat on Sam’s belly and slowly pushes it down his pants until his fingertips brush over Sam’s erection. As Sam draws a sharp breath, Lucifer grins. “I can tell.”

Sam huffs. “Jerk.”

Lucifer’s grin gets even wider. Then he exhales, relaxes further, and lets his head fall forward until his cheek rests against Sam’s, his breath warm at the shell of Sam’s ear. “I missed you too.”

* * *

Later, they’re lying on the lower bunk bed, or at least Lucifer is. Half of Sam is hanging over the edge. He snuggles closer to Lucifer, not just to avoid falling off, and Lucifer mumbles something, half asleep already.

“What was that?” Sam asks.

“This is ridiculous,” Lucifer says. “I know your ass is hanging over thin air. Go to your own bed.”

Sam laughs. “I’m not going to sleep for now.”

At that Lucifer opens his eyes a little and looks at him with furrowed brows.

“I’m keeping watch. We’ll switch later, okay?”

“Oh.” Another long exhale. Another bit of still lingering tension visibly leaves Lucifer’s body. “Good idea. We have to make you a shiv, too.”

“Yes, we do. But for now I’ll just wake you, if anyone comes in.”

Lucifer makes a mostly satisfied sound and closes his eyes again. And he may not have said that he trusts Sam as much as Sam trusts him, but he’s already fast asleep by the time the guards call lights out.


	17. Night Shift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Adam is stuck at the night shift again and worried about his friend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Billie's date with Raphael is drawing near! But here have Adam worrying about her first.

“I’m just saying,” Adam says into his phone. He’s hiding with a cup of coffee in the furthest corner of the hospital, relying on his beeper to notify him, if there’s an actual emergency. He’s stuck at a night shift again. At least it’s not a double shift this time. But there are things that are more important than doing his actual work right now. And one of those things is making sure his best friend isn’t brutally murdered. “She could be some kind of psycho who likes playing with her victims.”

“She couldn’t have expected me to ask her on a date!” Billie protests. “And the evidence she brought checks out. You said so yourself. Why produce something like that, if she just wanted to play a game?”

“Because it’s a complicated weird psycho game? What do I know!” Adam has to admit that Billie is right, though. They combined all of their researching skills and found the doctor who wrote the reports about the prison inmates. He had died of old age years ago, but he really had lost his job at the prison under dubious circumstances. Adam had briefly spoken to his daughter who had confirmed that he’d been angry about it for the rest of his life.

“Relax.” Billie sounds amused. “I’m convinced she’s involved with the people your brother tried to warn you about, and that sounded more like organized crime than murderous psychos, didn’t it?”

She’s right, of course. “Of course that makes it so much better.”

“Well, it makes her a lot more reasonable.”

Against his will, Adam has to laugh. This is way too absurd to not laugh about it. “You have it bad, you know that?”

“She’s interesting,” Billie admits reluctantly.

“Interesting, sure.”

“Okay, she also has a perfect sense of humor and she’s breathtakingly beautiful and I may be more than just a bit fascinated.”

Hearing Billie gush really is a rare occurrence. Adam sighs. “Well, I’m here to keep watch. Just text me the address of where you’re going and if I don’t hear from you by midnight, I’ll call the police.”

“God, I’ve kept watch for hetero friends often enough, but it really sucks to be on the other side of those safety measure for a change.”

Adam had been on the _other_ other side of those safety measures once on his first date with a girl he’d met online. That hadn’t been fun either, even though he understands why girls do things like that. “That’s what you get for dating a potentially crazy psycho killer.”

“I told you, she’s a mafia killer at most.”

Adam rolls his eyes. “Good thing we’ve established that she definitely killed people. I’m sure that’ll make for fascinating dinner conversation.”

“Well, at least she won’t freak, when I start talking about my work.”

“Oh, looking at it like that, she’s definitely a keeper. How could I have missed that so far?”

“Try not to die on an overdose of sarcasm, while I’m away,” Billie says. Then she adds more seriously: “I appreciate what you’re doing for me.”

“No problem.” Adam’s beeper goes off, and he curses under his breath. “I have to go. Try not to get killed, okay?”

“Will do my best.”

He hangs up, drinks another big gulp of coffee, and then he hurries away.

The next hour he spends trying to save the life of a kid that ate a tide pod. When he has time to look at his phone again, Billie has texted him the address of a very fancy club. Whoever that girl is that Billie has the hots for, she without doubt has money.

* * *

He’s about to return to his now cold coffee, when a kinda Bond-looking guy steps in front of him and flashes a badge that Adam doesn’t get a good look at. “Mr. Milligan, a minute of your time?” He has a pretty heavy british accent.

What the fuck is this about now? Could anything have happened to Billie? But it’s only an hour since she went on her date and no one would know to go to him with news about it anyway. “Well, I’m working right now and I can’t promise that no one will start actively dying the next second.”

The guy flashes him that kind of smile that says that he isn’t amused at all. “It won’t take long. It just came to my attention that you and Mrs. Billie Richings discovered something of interest to us.”

Adam may be tired, but that makes all kinds of alarm bells go off in his head. How does this guy know he and Billie worked together on this? Did she mention him in her reports? He isn’t sure. And why would someone suddenly start believing her, when they hadn’t before? “Well, Billie thought she had,” he says carefully. “But there hadn’t been enough evidence and so she dropped it. It was probably nothing.”

The british guy looks at him with narrowed eyes. He obviously doesn’t believe him. Adam puts on his best poker face, though. Maybe this guy belongs to the same people as Billie’s date. Maybe they’re trying to determine, if Billie really dropped the investigation. Nice trick. Adam won’t fall for it. If the wrong people get the impression that he’s willing to tell someone with a badge about what they found, Billie could drop dead the next minute. Not happening.

“Are you sure?” The british guy asks. “It’s of great import that you tell me everything that might not have been mentioned in the reports.”

So, if this guy belongs to the same people as Billie’s date and he has somehow access to the reports Billie writes, that means Dean had been right and this is really big. Shit, Adam hates having to admit that Dean might have been right and they should’ve just kept their noses out of this stuff. Aw, well. Adam is sure he can convincingly act as if they had. He puts on his best smile. “I think everything we found should be in there.”

Again, the british guy looks at him as if he doesn’t believe him. But finally he nods. “Well, in case you happen to remember anything, do not hesitate to let me know.” He reaches into the jacket of his suit and produces a business card that Adam takes.

“Sure,” Adam lies. He takes a look at the card. It’s just a name – Arthur Ketch – and a number. Nothing more. When Adam looks up again, that Ketch guy is already walking away.

Adam puts the card in his pocket (to try and find out who this guy really belongs to later) and fishes his phone out of another.

_Are you alright?_ He texts Billie. _I just had a weird guest._


	18. Surprises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Billie goes on a date and there are some surprises.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The date is finally here!

Billie is nervous, of course. She’s going on a date with someone whose name she doesn’t even know. It would be stupid to not be a least a little bit nervous. What makes her feel a bit better about it, though, is that it was her idea. She’s doing this because she wants to. It had taken the mysterious R by surprise, she hadn’t planned for it to happen, no matter what Adam says. It’s actually a pretty big accomplishment, isn’t it? Getting a date with someone who had made plans for potentially getting rid of you.

That thought makes her feel quite a lot better actually. (Though she realizes it’s kind of messed up in itself.)

Billie checks herself in the mirror one last time. Adam would probably tease her about wearing all black again. But it’s not everyday black, it’s the more elegant kind. The neckline of her top is low and her pants are hugging every curve. She’s decided against a skirt or high heels, just in case something does go wrong and she needs to run or whatever. There’s also pepper spray in her purse. She may be fascinated, but she’s not completely naive. Things could go wrong. Though she very much hopes they don’t.

The doorbell rings. Billie’s heart jumps. Then she hurries out the door and down the stairs.

R is leaning against a very nice car. One of those that you can’t afford with a normal paycheck. And contrary to Billie, her date does wear not only a skirt, but a dress. A short dark red cocktail dress to be precise. Damn. For a moment a moment Billie just stands there and stares.

R’s lips quirk up a little. “Are you coming or do you want to spent the evening just standing there?”

“I’m not just standing there,” Billie gives back. “I’m admiring the view. Give me a moment.”

R’s gaze flickers down as if flustered, but just for a second, then she looks Billie in the eyes again, keeping her relaxed pose. Secretly a little shy, but trying not to show it? That’s kinda cute. After a moment, Billie’s date reaches for the back door of the car and opens it. “Whenever you’re ready.”

Billie takes a step closer, but stops, when she remembers her talk with Adam. “I hope you don’t mind, but I need the address of where we’re going.”

R lifts an eyebrow, but it doesn’t look angry, more like she actually appreciates that Billie is careful. She pushes away from the car and hands Billie a card. There’s the name of a club and an address all in an elegant typeface that basically screams ‘This is going to be expensive’.

Now it’s Billie’s turn to lift an eyebrow. “Nice.” She takes a picture and sends it to Adam.

R climbs with her into the back of the car. The front seat is hidden behind tinted glass. R just knock against it and the car starts.

“Impressive,” Billie says to cover her rising nervousness. “You’re only missing the seat covers made of polar bear fur for the true mafia vibes.” She looks around. It’s just a very nice car, not an actual limousine. She isn’t sure, if she would’ve been able to deal with a limousine. “And the minibar probably.”

That makes R’s lips quirk up again. “You can get out any time you want. I’m not pointing a gun at you.” After a moment she adds: “This time.”

Billie looks her up and down. “Would be hard to hide one underneath that dress anyway.”

“You’d be surprised.”

Oh great, so she does carry a gun? Well, that probably shouldn’t come as a surprise.

R just watches her for a moment. “Are you worried?”

That makes Billie lean back in her seat, just to show how much she isn’t. “I asked you out, didn’t I? Though this would get less weird, if you told me your name after all,” she tries.

R’s eyes twinkle in amusement. “I told you to make one up.”

“I’ll make up a terrible one.” Probably not the kind of threat that’d get her anywhere, but worth a try.

“Try me.”

Well, now it’s on. Billie looks at her date, taps her lower lip with her index finger in thought. For a moment she thinks she can see R track the movement with a bit of fascination and she smiles. “Rosaline.”

R shudders. “You’re starting with Shakespeare?”

So her date is well read then. “Always a good starting point, isn’t it?”

R huffs. “Try something else.”

“Rihanna.”

“Now you’re being ridiculous.”

“Ruth?”

“I could live with Ruth, I guess.”

“Then it’s not terrible enough. Let me try again.”

* * *

By the time the car stops, Billie is actually having fun, even though she isn’t any closer to learning R’s actual name. She’d hoped she would get a reaction to one of the names she listed, but R has an annoyingly good poker face.

She gets distracted when they get out of the car. The club is in a building that looks like it’s at least 200 years old, and there’s a long line in front of the entrance of the club. R just pulls her to the front of it, though, and the bouncer waves them through.

“By now I think you’re actively trying to show off,” Billie says while they step into the dim light of the club.

R throws her an amused look. “You haven’t even seen the interior of the club yet.”

“So you are trying to show off?”

“That’s the point of a date, isn’t it?” R is pulling Billie down a small set of stairs now. From below them music is filtering up to them. It’s not the kind Billie prefers, but she’ll live.

And R is technically right, but Billie isn’t even sure how much of an actual date this is, considering she got it under very strange circumstances. “I didn’t expect you to make that much of an effort, I have to admit.”

They’re almost at the bottom of the stairs when R throws a look over her shoulder. “I wouldn’t have agreed to this, if I didn’t find you attractive.”

It’s such an off hand compliment that Billie stops and blinks in surprise for a moment. R pulls her on, though. And the next moment they step into a dimly lit room.

It looks like an old wine cellar with a vaulted ceiling and niches in which tables are nestled. In the middle of it there’s a dance floor that’s already packed with people. Billie has to admit that she likes it.

“Drink?” R asks.

“Any recommendations?” Billie asks back, pushing towards the bar in the back of the room.

“They have a really good Bourbon here.”

Which means for one that R has been here before and maybe comes here regularly, but also that she has taste, at least in Billie’s opinion. Billie grins. “Sounds good.”

* * *

They end up at a bar table in one of the niches, both of them a glass of Bourbon in front of them. Billie switches her glass from one hand to the other, making the ice cubes clink. Now, how to start an actual conversation? “So …” She says after a moment. “Did you always want to threaten and kill people for a living or was that something that just … happened?”

It’s really fascinating to watch R when she’s amused by something, because the tells are kind of subtle. There’s that little twinkle in her eyes, then the corners of her lips quirk up, and now it even blooms into a full smile. “I actually wanted to study medicine.”

Okay, Billie hasn’t expected that. “Become a doctor?”

R nods. “An actual doctor.”

“You’ve strayed far off your goals then.” Billie tries to make it sound casual, but she really hopes she can gather some information that way.

“Well.” R shrugs. “Life happens. Did you end up where you thought you’d end up when you were younger?”

So much for that. Nice way to shift the focus. But Billie has all evening. She’ll learn something. “I’ve always been fascinated by dead things and by puzzles,” she says. “So finding out how people got dead is pretty much perfect for me.”

That gets her a short laugh from R. “So, when you were snooping around you were just trying to solve a puzzle? That’s it?”

Billie shrugs. “I hate things that don’t make sense.”

For a moment R just looks at her, dark eyes studying Billie’s face intently. Then she leans forward. “Are you content with the answers you got?”

What now? Lie or be honest? Billie finds that she doesn’t want to lie. She likes R too much for that already. “I’d love to learn more.”

“And what would you do with the information?”

“I don’t know,” Billie admits. “Listen, I get the whole revenge thing and I get those guys are assholes. I’m pretty sure there’s more than that to what you do and that you’re not a band of hitmen doing charity work or something like that, but I don’t want to make trouble for you, I swear.”

Another smile. “That’s a good start. Also, we do charity work. Sometimes.”

Now it’s Billies turn to laugh. “You do realize that you just didn’t deny that you belong to a band of hitmen?”

R’s smile turns into something with an edge, still amused, but a bit dangerous and definitely hot as hell. “I will neither deny nor affirm anything in that regard.”

Damn.

“I can make you an offer, though,” R goes on.

Curious, Billie tilts her head to the side in question.

“You get the chance to learn more over time. I’ll stick around. And if I decide I can trust you, I’ll tell you things.”

Billie realizes that she likes that prospect very much. Still, she gives R a look that’s half amusement, half skepticism. “Are you baiting me into more dates with the promise of learning secrets?”

R lifts an eyebrow. “Do I have to bribe you to get another date?”

Good point, very good point. Now Billie leans forward herself. “We’ll see. So far I’m intrigued and enjoying myself.”

R smiles. “Happy to hear that.”

Before Billie can say any more, her cell phone vibrates. What now? She fishes it out of her pocket and reads the message Adam sent her. Weird visit? Shit, that doesn’t sound good.

_I’m fine_ , she texts back. _Give me details._

When she looks at R again, her date has a questioning, slightly worried look on her face. Doesn’t look like she has any idea about what’s happening. Maybe that’s why Billie asks: “You didn’t send anyone to Adam tonight?”

Now R looks really worried. “No. What did he say exactly?”

“Not much so far.” Billie’s cell phone buzzes with a new message, and she checks it. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees R step around the table. Billie holds up a hand. “Privacy please?”

To her surprise, R actually stops. And she stays still while Billie reads Adam’s newest message, no nervous fidgeting. There’s only the clinking of ice cubes from R’s direction when she lifts her glass, but doesn’t drink from it.

Adam’s message tells a story about a guy named Ketch asking questions. Billie bites her lower lip, trying to think. Could that Ketch guy actually have been FBI or whatever? His card doesn’t indicate anything along the lines. Still, maybe R turns out less nice than she looks so far, and then they might need someone to turn to. On the other hand, R is currently politely waiting for her to tell her about something that’s probably important to her. That says a lot about her character. Maybe Billie should test how far her patience goes, though. She puts her cell phone away.

R is watching her intently again. “Everything alright with your friend?” she asks after a moment.

Billie nods. “Just someone asking weird questions.” Then she puts on a smile. “Do you dance?”

Without waiting for R’s answer she takes her hand and pulls her towards the dance floor. Well, she tries to pull her towards the dance floor. R just stays where she is, and she’s stronger than she looks. “I’d like more details.”

Of course she’d like that. “Well, I’d like more details about a lot of things, too,” Billie says sweetly.

That gets her a raised eyebrow and a look that’s mostly annoyed, but also maybe a bit grudgingly impressed. “Are you sure Adam Milligan isn’t in danger?” R asks after a moment.

That makes Billie stop. Is he? What he told her hadn’t sounded like it, but maybe she’s misjudging the situation. Then another question pops up, though. “Why is it important to you, if Adam is in danger?”

For a moment, R just stares at her. Their hands are still interlocked, Billie slightly pulling towards the dance floor, R holding her back. R’s fingers aren’t completely smooth, there are calluses exactly in the places you get them when handling guns often. Billie knows them from the hands of dead people, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t recognize them on a living person. It’s a reminder that she might be in danger herself. But R looks mostly thoughtful.

“It’s important to his brother,” she says finally.

Oh, now this is a nice piece of information. Billie is pretty sure she knows which brother, too. So Dean Winchester is actually involved with those people? And what she knows from Adam is mostly that he doesn’t like him much, but if he’s really trying to keep his brother out of harm’s way, he can’t be that big of an asshole, can he?

After a moment, Billie gives in to R’s pull and steps closer. “There was someone at the hospital. He flashed a badge that Adam didn’t get a good look at and asked what we dug out about the deaths.” She can feel R tense slightly. “Adam didn’t tell him anything, so the guy left a card with a number. That’s it. I think he’s safe, wouldn’t you say?”

R nods with a thoughtful look in her eyes. She’s still holding Billie’s hand, and her thumb starts moving in tiny circles over Billie’s skin. “Did that guy give a name?”

“Maybe.” Billie says with a smile. “What’s your involvement with Dean Winchester?”

R throws her a dark look under furrowed brows, but her hand is still gently holding Billie’s so it can’t be that bad, can it? After a moment though, the line between R’s brows gets even deeper. “You never mentioned Adam in your reports, did you?”

Oh shit. So there’s definitely something sketchy about that Ketch guy. “No, I didn’t.”

But this also means R has read her reports. That’s slightly creepy. It also makes a question come to mind. “How did you learn about me working with Adam?”

That gets her one of those sexy, dangerous smiles again. “I stalked you.”

“Oh, great. So comforting.” But of course the first time Billie had seen R was at the hospital. So that probably hadn’t been a coincidence, had it? Still, she doesn’t like the thought. “You still stalking me?”

“What?” Raphael looks appalled. “I’m not in the habit of stalking the people I date. I just needed to find out more about you.” She stops to think. “But I definitely would’ve realized, if someone else had watched you, too.” She looks seriously worried now. “I really need a name.”

Billie sighs. Maybe this is her stupidly falling for a cute girl, but if the guy that visited Adam isn’t FBI, her best chance for learning more about him is probably someone who knows all about illegal means of research. “Arthur Ketch.”

An almost silent curse, then R lets go of her hand to get her own phone. She sends a quick text.

“I guess that’s it with the date night then?”

R looks up from her phone. She presses her lips together, looks down at her phone, then at Billie again. “Only if you want to call it a night,” she says finally. 

And maybe Billie should. Maybe she should finally acknowledge that this is all getting over her head and that she needs to take a step back. But they’re already in deep, and R is not only beautiful and interesting and has exactly the right kind of humor, she also respects boundaries, is patient and worried for the safety of Billie’s friends. Who cares, if she’s probably killed people? Nobody is perfect.

“I’d still love to dance,” Billie says.

So they do.

* * *

Dancing leads to another round of drinks and to them leaning on their table talking. R has three brothers, Billie learns. She grew up poor, which makes her even more likeable in Billie’s eyes. It makes a difference, if you get into the criminal life because you have to or because you’re bored. She buried her dreams to become a doctor, because they had no money to pay for college. But that’s all the personal detail Billie manages to get out of her.

Billie mostly tells funny stories about work. It’s nice to have someone she can tell them to without worrying about freaking them out. R actually laughs about that time Billie and a colleague hurried to pick up a body from a retirement home and accidently tried to take the deceased’s still alive roommate.

R is obviously still worried about the Ketch thing, but doesn’t say anything about it anymore and doesn’t make a move to leave.

It’s really late, when they finally head back to Billie’s apartment. They’re sitting pretty close together on the backseat of the car. R reaches out to push some dark locks out of Billie’s face, and when her fingers brush Billie’s cheek they leave a tingling trail there. “We should definitely do this again,” Billie says.

“We should,” R agrees. They’re so close now that her breath is hot on the skin of Billie’s face.

But suddenly, R leans back again. “I have another secret for you.”

And this is nice, but not what Billie had been after right now. Still, she tilts her head to the side in question.

It takes a while for R to speak again. Her tongue darts out, wetting her lips, and her gaze flickers to the side only to return to Billie’s face a moment after, like she’s trained herself to keep eye contact, because she knows it shows weakness, if you avoid it. “I’m trans,” she says finally.

Oh. That’s very definitely not what Billie expected. For a moment, her mind struggles with adjusting to this new information. It doesn’t change much, though, right? Trans or not, R is a woman and Billie is attracted to women. Especially, if they’re this beautiful, intelligent, and fascinating. But if R is saying something about it now, she’s probably expecting it to become a problem, if the evening progresses the way they hopefully both want it to. And Billie has honestly no idea how she’ll react to potentially finding a penis down R’s panties. But a dick on a girl is technically kind of like a built in strap-on, isn’t it? She can deal with that. And she sure as hell knows that she still very much wants the woman in front of her.

So she should better stop fretting and get her act together.

“Does that mean you weren’t planning on just dropping me off at home?” Billie asks, going for a cheeky smile. 

R laughs a little relieved huff. “It means I was planning on kissing you, and you wouldn’t believe how betrayed some people act, if they only learn about it after.”

Ouch. Billie can imagine that, but it definitely doesn’t make dating any easier. But instead of trying to come up with an answer, she leans forward.

When their lips meet, all of Billie’s fretting starts feeling very irrelevant. R’s lips are soft and taste faintly of the Bourbon they drank at the club. And as soon as she realizes that Billie is on board with her plan, R starts kissing back enthusiastically. A moment later, Billie finds herself pressed into the car seat with R leaning over her. Billie’s hands land on R’s hips, slide over the fabric of her dress to the small of her back. She only stops when her fingers find the hilt of a gun that was hidden underneath a bit of loosely hanging fabric.

R breaks the kiss, breath coming in hot puffs against Billie’s lips. “I didn’t bring that because of you.”

It’s kind of touching that R feels the need to clarify that. Billie smiles. “I’m not worrying. I would’ve expected a thigh holster or something like that, though.”

“I have one of those, too.”

“Sexy.”

That prompts R to kiss her again.

R’s cell phone ringing right then is exceptionally bad timing in Billie’s opinion. With a sigh R flops back in her own seat and answers the call. For a moment she just listens.

“Are you sure it’s him?” She asks. Then: “I’ll deal with it.”

That sounds like it’s finally time to call it a night.

R puts the phone down and looks at Billie. “A certain Arthur Ketch is waiting for you at your apartment.”

Damn. That man really has a knack for ruining someone’s night, hasn’t he? “What do you think he’s up to? More questions?”

“I’d guess so,” R agrees.

Billie sighs. She probably shouldn’t take R’s side that much, but she finds herself disliking that Ketch guy more and more. “Worried I might tell him something?”

R looks at her for a moment as if the answer to that is somewhere in Billie’s face. “No. We’ll drop you off a few streets away and I’ll stay and keep an eye on you in case he decides to make trouble.”

Knowing a deadly, gorgeous woman will have her back is definitely a nice feeling.

The car stops, and Billie leans in for one last, lingering kiss. Then she’s standing on the sidewalk watching R’s car drive away, resenting Ketch even more, because now she has to walk the rest of the way home. But of course they can’t have him see her with R.

Only when Billie is almost at her door and already sees the figure of a man leaning in the entrance, does it occur to her that she’s forgotten to ask R for her name again. R probably would’ve told her by now, would she? She’ll definitely ask when she sees her again. And she hopes that will be soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't say anything about Raphael being trans so far, because I actually hadn't planned on it from the start, but then a friend had really nice headcanons about her being trans, so I decided that she is.
> 
> Everyone who read all my other verses that Raphael shows up in probably isn't surprised.


	19. Late night at the Bar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Gabriel doesn't want to go home.

Dean isn’t sure when his bar has become the main hang out spot for the other Archangels, too, not just Michael, but it’s time for closing and Gabriel is still here. He’s spent most of the night at the niche table the Archangels had sat the first time they’d come here. In front of him is a laptop. (He’d demanded the wifi password, then muttered something about the ‘lame ass connection’, demanded access to the router, done something that usually probably only the internet provider is allowed to do, and Kevin says he can stream Game of Thrones on his phone now during breaks, even when there are lots of guests using the wifi, too.). Gabriel is wearing a headset, and he’s alternating between typing, glaring at his screen, demanding more of a terrible sweet energy drink mix he taught Kevin to make, and talking into his headset. Sometimes he stops to show Kevin a meme he found. Dean doesn’t understand half the jokes, but they seem to make the kid forget that he’s dealing with someone deadly and dangerous. He actually laughs at all of them and it isn’t a forced laugh.

Now the only other customer except for Gabriel is some guy sleeping with his head on the bar (and Sasha of course, keeping guard as always), and Dean really wants to head back to Michael to try and get some sleep. Which means he has to throw Gabriel out. “Dude,” he calls over, “you should call it a night!”

“It’s only three in the morning,” Gabriel gives back without even looking up from his laptop.

“Only?” Dean asks. Great, he’s going to be here until sunrise, is he? On the other hand, why bother? It’s not like Gabriel would take the opportunity to empty the register. That’s a bit below his paygrade. “Okay,” he says. “Fine. I’m calling it a night. You do whatever you want to do. Just lock the door behind you.”

Gabriel gives the thumbs up, still without looking up.

Okay then. If he wants to sit in an empty bar, he can knock himself out. Dean turns to Kevin with a sigh. “Go home. I’ll deal with sleepy head over there.” Well, he and Sasha will deal with the sleeping customer. Dean isn’t sure, if Michael minds that he uses his bodyguard as a bouncer sometimes, but Sasha seems to like having something to do. 

“You really just let him stay here?” Kevin nods towards Gabriel.

Dean shrugs. “What’s he gonna do? I’m dating his big brother.”

Kevin shrugs. “Good point.”

* * *

Gabriel had been busy all day, losely keeping watch over Raphael’s date and remote-driving the car for her. Digging things up about a certain Arthur Ketch, and doing research about his next target, second to last of the people from the list Sam had produced, a certain Eugene Ross-Leming. Him and Raphael probably have to take care of that together, because the guy is freaking paranoid and has an alarm system some museums could get jealous of. So Gabriel will probably be busy with the alarm system itself, while Raphael goes to make it look like dear old Eugene fell onto a kitchen knife while preparing a midnight snack or whatever. She’s good at this, and the guard has to die right away, because Gabriel won’t deal with this alarm system a second time. The plan alone gives him a headache.

He’s almost done with making sense of it, when there’s a click in the lock of the back door of the bar. He can hear it, because it’s dead silent in here by now and he took the headphones off after Dean was gone. It’s a shame actually. He’s enjoyed working in company. In the mansion the echos are just getting deeper the more people he cares about are locked up.

The door opens and then closes, and Gabriel reaches for his gun. He only relaxes, when Raphael steps out into the bar room. She’s still wearing her dark red dress, so she came straight from her date. He’d handed control over the car over to her as soon as Billie had gotten out. “All good?” he asks.

She nods. “Stayed until Ketch was gone. Billie didn’t breathe a word and gave him hell.” She sounds a bit proud. “I tried to follow him after, but he shook me.” Her tone changes to offended.

Gabriel grins. “He’s good.”

“No shit. What have you got?”

Aw well, that’s a sore spot. “Not much. The guy’s like a ghost. I think Arthur Ketch isn’t his real name. Barely anything shows up about him anywhere.”

The corners of Raphael’s mouth twitch. “He’s good.”

“Oh, fuck you, sis.” Okay, so they’ve both got their pride hurt by this Ketch guy. But she doesn’t have to rub it in, just because he did the same.

Raphael huffs. “So, you have no idea how he got wind of Billie and Adam?”

Well, that’s something different. “I don’t have anything solid,” Gabriel admits, “but I have a theory.”

His sister slides into the chair opposite to him. “Tell me about it.”

Gabriel takes a deep breath. “I think judge Bevell told the Men of Letters that she was blackmailed to help Lucifer get out of jail. So they probably dug into everything involving him, found the Buckner massacre Mikey left behind and realized that there was something off with the pattern of the other guards dropping, too. That way they must’ve found the report Billie made, too.”

Raphael nods, but then she furrows her brows. “How did they learn about Adam?”

Good question. Gabriel shrugs. “Beats me.”

The line between Raphael’s brows gets deeper. “I would’ve realized, if someone else had been tailing Billie.”

Oh, is she seriously upset about that? Her date must’ve left quite the impression. Gabriel tries hard not to grin. “You didn’t watch her 24/7. Maybe you missed him. Also, that Ketch guy is good.”

By now, Raphael looks seriously unhappy. “He has to go.”

“Woah, there! Is someone getting a tiny bit possessive?”

Gabriel’s sister scowls at him. Under normal circumstance he would’ve found the amount of anger she’s displaying funny, but to be honest, he’s worried, too.

“He’s a threat,” she says.

“He’s also involved with the Men of Letters. And as much as I’d love to show them that they shouldn’t mess with us, we have to be careful with them. I told my theory to Mikey. Let’s see what he says.”

The mention of their brother’s name makes Raphael look around. “Is that why you’re here? Are you actually discussing business like that here now?”

What does she think they are? Stupid? You don’t discuss matters that sensitive in public places. “‘Course not. I sent him a message about it.”

Raphael still looks unhappy. “Why did you bring work here then?” she asks. “It’s a risk, you know that, don’t you?”

Gabriel rolls his eyes. “I made sure no one could get a look at my screen. I just wanted out.” Can’t he want a bit of change of scenery?

Raphael lifts an eyebrow skeptically.

Gabriel makes a show out of being surprised about her reaction, but of course he knows it had never bothered him to just stay in front of his computer for days on end before. Lucifer had always checked on him, Michael and Raphael, too, occasionally. “What?” he asks. “You went on a date today. Can’t I go to a bar?”

For a moment, Raphael just looks at him. Then she nods. Maybe she gets it. He isn’t sure how much it bothers her how empty the mansion is right now. She always looks like nothing bothers her much, but right after dad had vanished for good she’d been the one who couldn’t believe he’d just leave them and was to this day convinced that he had died somewhere back then. And she’d made it look like being trans was a walk in the park, until they’d slowly uncovered all the insecurities she was carrying around. One summer they’d all spent wearing skirts until Raphael had given up claiming that she really didn’t want to try wearing one (even though she was eyeing them in stores all the time) and put one on, too. So who knows how she’s feeling right now.

“Want to head back with me?” she asks now.

Gabriel thinks. He probably should. If she dislikes the empty mansion as much as he, she maybe needs him to come back with her. But he can’t bring himself to say yes. He shakes his head. “I’m going to work a bit longer.” And the couch in Dean’s office is probably pretty comfy, if it gets too late.

“Alright.” Raphael gets up. “Let me know, if you need something.”

Gabriel smiles, like he always does. “Will do.”

* * *

When Dean gets to the Archangel mansion, Michael is still brooding over something. At least he’s already in his bedroom, laying on his bed, but he’s staring at some notes on his phone as if they’ve personally offended him. Dean climbs into the bed next to him. “You should probably give it a rest for tonight.”

Michael looks up from his phone, scowling at him. “I could, if your brother hadn’t made a mess of things.”

Oh, so this is about the Men of Letters? Yeah, Sam messed up there, but Dean won’t stand for anyone giving him shit about that. So he scowls back. “He wouldn’t have, if _your_ brother hadn’t made a pretty bloody mess first.”

Michael sighs and pinches his nose. He puts the phone aside and makes a placating gesture.

Dean relaxes.

“They’re on our trail now,” Michael says.

Dean turns on his back and puts his hands behind his head. “So maybe it’s time to have a proper talk with them.”

That makes Michael blink in confusion. “What?”

Dean rolls his eyes. Sometimes his brilliant, deadly boyfriend can be dense. “Look, I don’t know jack about the details, but as I understood it, they do sketchy business, just like you, right?”

Michael pulls a face. “What they do is higher level, more political and therefore only half illegal sketchy business.”

With a quick hand movement Dean waves that distinction away. “Sketchy business stays sketchy business. My point is that they’ll probably want to settle this without the authorities getting involved.”

Michael nods to that.

“So talk to them, tell them you don’t actually want to step on their toes, you just want your brother back. Give them some talk about future business opportunities or something. Maybe you can help each other out.”

Michael looks at him with furrowed brows. “That’d still be me asking them for a favor. After we actually did try to step on their toes.”

Yeah, that’s not a good position for negotiating, Sam made sure of that. Dean still shrugs. “Sell it well then.”

“It’d still be me asking for a favor from a bad position, no matter how much I don’t make it sound like it.” For a moment Michael just stares unhappily straight ahead.

“You’d rather pick a fight?” Dean doesn’t like that idea at all. You don’t mess with politicians. Of course the Archangels are deadly, but politicians can ruin you in a whole different way.

The muscles in Michael’s jaw work silently. Finally, he turns towards Dean. “I’ll think about it.”

Well, at least that isn’t a no.


	20. Gains and Losses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which plans are made and there's a suspicious stain on the couch.

It’s not that prison life is fun, but Sam feels better now than he had in a while. Hanging with Lucifer comes in handy, too. Him almost killing his cellmate means basically everyone is afraid of him. Only the guards throw them dark looks that Sam doesn’t like at all. During lunch, Lucifer make sure that Sam knows who is who.

“This is Ross-Leming. Back when I was here the first time, he was really close with Brad Buckner. Everyone called them Bucklemming, when they were on guard together.”

Sam snorts, then he lowers his voice. “Well, you know what Michael did to Buckner, right?”

Lucifer tilts his head to the side curiously. “Were you under the impression that I get to hear lots of news in here?”

That’s a good point. Crowley probably would’ve tried to keep the talk about incriminating things to a minimum. Well, this is definitely morbid, but Sam is kind of glad he can bring good news. “The papers called it a massacre.”

That makes Lucifer’s eyes light up. “I have to admit, I love it when big bro is that angry.”

“Wait, you mean him being that angry has happened before?” Sam isn’t sure how to feel about that. He has assumed that the Buckner massacre had been a one time thing. Michael always seems so cool and controlled. Sam knows he’d killed a lot of people, of course, but not like that!

Lucifer grins. “Oh yes. He’s responsible for a lot of our reputation. Threaten someone he cares for, and he knows no bounds. He once locked ten people in a house and set it on fire, because they tried to harm Gabriel. Then he waited and shot the ones that managed to bust out.”

Oh wow. Sam makes a mental note to really, really never cross Michael. He opens his mouth for another question, but Lucifer’s gaze drifts away over his shoulder, and his pose stiffens. So Sam closes his mouth again and focuses on the poor excuse of food in front of him. A few wilted leaves is what they call a salad here. The rest is supposed to be pasta, but it’s more like an over cooked glob of things that may have been spaghetti once, mixed with tomato sauce.

Footsteps come to a stop next to him. Sam glances to the side and sees the uniform pants of a guard, so he hurries to pay his meal even more attention. It’s not that he’s afraid of the guards, but if he gets into trouble here, too, Michael might finally actually kill him.

“Already getting cozy, you two?” The guard asks. He has a bit of a southern accent.

Now Sam looks up. The guy looks a bit like a rich ranch owner, too. And there are two long scars running over his left eye and down his cheek.

Lucifer throws him a smile that isn’t actually a smile at all, just a show of teeth. “And this, Sam, is Asmodeus.”

Sam knows that name from the list he got from Cain. He shoots Asmodeus another look and nods as if they’d just been introduced at a party.

“I’m giving our newcomer a tour, if you don’t mind,” Lucifer says surprisingly civil, even though he still looks at Asmodeus like he wants to skin him alive.

“And there I thought you two love doves were talking about something secret by the way you were whispering. You know, Nick, I’m glad you like your new toy. Hope it’ll keep you civil for a while. Otherwise, we’d have to take it away again.”

Toy? Sam draws breath for a comeback, but then thinks better of it and settles for a bitchface. A glance to Lucifer shows him that his blue eyes have gone hard. Sam is relieved that his boyfriend has a pretty good poker face in place, though. “Yeah?” Lucifer asks. “And then what? It’s not like you’ll find anyone else any time soon who’d be willing to try and kill me.”

Lucifer had mentioned that before. That the guards had set his cellmate up to kill him. But Sam had been a bit preoccupied with finally seeing his boyfriend again back then. Hearing it again makes it finally, really sink it. Now he’s even more glad that he’s here to watch Lucifer’s back. He forces himself to keep eating, though. He has to act like all of this doesn’t matter much to him.

He still flinches, when Asmodeus suddenly puts both of his hands on the table and leans over to Lucifer. “You’ll pay for what you did to Alastair!” He hisses. “And don’t think I don’t realize how all my friends are having ‘accidents’ recently. You’ll pay for that, too!”

Shit! While Sam suddenly feels like he can’t eat another bite, Lucifer smiles coldly. “Pray tell how I’m responsible for your friends being clumsy while I’m sitting in here?”

“That’s a very good question, innit?” With that Asmodeus straightens up and walks away. Sam stares after him with worry in his guts.

“He doesn’t have a clue,” Lucifer says.

Yes, probably. “We should get a warning out anyway,” Sam says.

Lucifer nods. “You do that. Talk to your lawyer.”

That’s probably a good idea. Sam has Naomi officially working for him, so they don’t have to take the more indirect way through Crowley. And since Asmodeus is suspecting Lucifer of having connections outside, because that was definitely what he’d been hinting at, Lucifer should keep his contact with the outside world at a minimum. “Congratulations to not starting a fight, by the way.”

Lucifer pulls a face as if he isn’t too happy about that, but then he visibly pulls himself together and winks at Sam. “Wouldn’t want them to take away my toy, would I?”

Sam throws Lucifer a bitchface and points his fork at him. “You’re not calling me that ever!”

For a moment Lucifer looks at him, tongue visible in the corner of his mouth, then he leans closer. “Duly noted, but you should actually try and act a bit more afraid of me in public. I have a reputation to lose that’s keeping me alive right now.”

Sam puts the fork down and folds his arms in front of his chest. “It might get the guards off your back, if they think they’re getting a bit of revenge, because I can hold myself against you.”

For a moment, Lucifer seems to consider that. “That’d also give every inmate that would like to try his hand at killing me for some kind of reward a confidence boost. And I don’t think Alastair’s friends will settle for me getting roughed up a bit.”

Okay, yes, that’s a good point. On the other hand ... “How about I make the guards hire me for that job?”

Lucifer grins, a bit more of the usual light returning to his eyes. “Oh, I like how you’re thinking, Sammy. So I act an asshole towards you, then we make it look like you turned the tables on me ...”

It feels good to be making plans. Sam nods and picks up where his boyfriend left the sentence hanging. “And then they’ll think I can do what their last candidate couldn’t, and I’ll find reasons why that takes some time. In the meantime we can be pretty sure they won’t try anything else.” And they only have to stall until the other Archangels get the rest of Alastair’s friends. That shouldn’t be too long, should it?

“Very well.” Lucifer pushes his already empty plate away from him and takes Sam’s instead.

“Hey!” Sam protests automatically.

Lucifer grins at him. “You weren’t going to eat that anyway.”

Well, yes, that’s true. But Sam starts to get what Lucifer is doing, so he tries to take the plate back nonetheless. Lucifer swats his hand away and lifts his fork threateningly. It’s a stupid plastic thing and less than intimidating, even though Sam isn’t sure, if Lucifer could still kill someone with it. Still, Sam pulls his hand back. To make this believable, he’ll have to wait a while, where he acts like he’s afraid of Lucifer doing the same to him than to his last cellmate, before he’ll ‘snap’.

“Come one, give me your best bitchface,” Lucifer prompts him. “I know you can do better than that.”

With a claim like that the bitchface comes pretty naturally anyway.

* * *

Gabriel gets woken up by the door to Dean’s office banging against the wall. He buries his face in his makeshift pillow (the armrest of the couch) and groans. “Ever heard of politely knocking?”

“What the …?” He hears Dean muttering. “Dude, this is my office!”

“Fair point.” Gabriel turns and slowly blinks into the light of a new day. It’s probably way too early, isn’t it? “What time is it?”

“About noon.” Dean stares at him with his lips pressed together.

Yup, way too early.

“You know,” Dean goes on, “if you’d told me you’re staying the night, I’d have given you sheets or something. I think you’re lying directly on the stain. Didn’t get around to really cleaning that up yet.”

Oh, gross. Gabriel manages to sit up and pulls his blanket aside (it’s actually a table cloth). And yes, there’s a stain on the couch that’s a bit darker than the rest of the fabric. “Please tell me you and Mikey never did the do on this couch.”

“The couch, the desk, every chair in this room, and the floor once.” Dean walks towards his desk. “Can’t recommend that.”

Great. Now he’s slept on it, though, so it doesn’t make much of a difference how fast he gets up, right? So Gabriel just stays seated and tries to fully wake up by sheer force of will.

Before he can manage that, his cell phone rings. It’s Michael. Seriously, can’t they just let him sleep? Grumbling, Gabriel answers the call.

“Where have you been all night?” His brother asks.

“First of all, I don’t remember having a curfew,” Gabriel answers, “I’m a bit too old for that, am I not? And second, at least I know how to clean up after myself, if I have sex without a condom. But I got the message. I’ll never sleep on Dean’s office couch ever again.”

For a moment, there’s silence on the other end of the line. “Oh, the stain,” Michael says finally. “That was whiskey.”

Oh. Phew. But that really proves that Michael has no sense of humor at all. Not that Gabriel likes jokes on his expense, but this was a pretty crafty one, because it completely worked with what he assumed while Dean never told him anything that wasn’t true. Gabriel can admit that was pretty good. Credit where credit is due.

“And I don’t have time for both of you being childish,” Michael goes on. “I got word from Naomi and the two remaining guards have just become top priority even before the Men of Letters. So get home so we can make a plan.”

Aw shit …

“I have nothing on that Asmodeus guy yet,” Gabriel protests. “So there’s no point in planning shit. And for Eugene Ross-Leming the recon is done. Raphael and me can finish that tonight, but he has to drop right away, because his alarm system was designed in hell, I swear.”

“In that case,” Michael says, “you and me do that. Raphael has to make absolutely sure that we don’t get in trouble for another dead guard.”

Oh yes. That makes sense. The date may have gone well, but that might not mean much, especially regarding Adam.

“And about the last one …” Michael starts.

“Asmodeus. Well, I have an address and the usual kind of information. Which school he went to, a bit about family and friends. But I was busy with Ketch yesterday.” Slowly Gabriel’s brain starts to get up to speed, and he wonders what in the hell happened that makes this even more priority now than it had been before. “How much time do we have?”

“If I understand Sam’s message right, they can stall another attempt on Lucifer’s life for a bit, but we shouldn’t take too long.”

Oh fuck. “I’ll do what I can.” And then: “So, do I still have to show up for a planning session?”

“You can’t stay away from home forever, Gabriel.”

“I’m not planning to,” he protests.

He hears Michael sigh. “You don’t have to show up. But don’t work in public.”

“Yes, sir!” Gabriel jokes, even though he knows that’s lost on Michael, when he’s all business and orders.

When he hangs up, Dean presses a cup of coffee into his hands. Well, that’s a nice surprise. Gabriel looks up with a smile. “Decided to be a good host after all, Dean-o?”

Dean scowls at him. “Don’t make yourself at home too much. But you can use my office, if you have to. And there are fresh clothes in there.” He points at a duffle bag in the corner. “Even though they’ll be a bit too big.”

Gabriel’s smile gets wider. Who’d have thought that Dean of all people would get it?

For a moment Dean looks like he wants to say something else, but then he just turns away and walks towards the door. There he stops again, though. “Just don’t run away, okay?” He lifts a hand. “Don’t deny it. It started like that with Sam, too. Him crashing somewhere else whenever he could. But it’d break Mike’s heart if you did.”

“I’m not planning on running away,” Gabriel says. It’s not forever after all. Lucifer will be back. He has to come back.


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which some things are explained.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's Billie/Raphael smut at the end of the chapter. Well, at least my kind of bad excuse for smut.

It’s a good thing that R seems to like suits, because someone loitering at the back exit of Billie’s workplace gets at least 50% less scary, if they’re dressed like they’re coming right out a board meeting of some kind.

Billie stops and looks R up and down for a moment. She isn’t one of those people that start drooling because of a nice suit, but it’s definitely a nice suit, well fitted … and probably hiding at least one gun.

“Here for business reasons?” Billie asks finally.

There’s a slightly regretful smile flickering over R’s face. “I’m afraid so. Can we talk somewhere private?”

She hasn’t changed her mind concerning feeding Billie to the fishes, has she? No, she’d let Billie talk to that Ketch guy, trusting she wouldn’t reveal anything. They have a basis of mutual trust by now, at least to some extend. Billie won’t allow doubts to ruin that. “I was about to pick up Adam from work,” she says. “He’d wonder what’s keeping me and he’s still kinda jumpy about that.” She shrugs a bit apologetically.

R tilts her head to the side as if she’s trying to find a deeper meaning in Billie’s words. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

Okay, yes, it’s still nice to have that confirmed.

“And business concerns him, too,” R goes on, “so it’d actually be good, if he was part of the conversation.”

Well, that probably had to happen at some point. Billie is almost sure he’ll like R and listen to her. She still goes for a lopsided smile. “There go my hopes of having you to myself.”

For a moment, R’s eyes light up with a flicker of joy, and it makes Billie’s heart melt a little. “You haven’t changed your mind about that?” R asks, tiny hint of insecurity in her voice.

Billie smiles and finds the courage to step a little closer. “Of course not.”

She isn’t sure, if touching is allowed during a business visit, but when Billie extends her arms, R takes half a step forward, too. Billie’s hands land on R’s hips. Another half-step, and then Billie can feel the warmth of R’s body through layers of clothing. She leans in.

The kiss they exchange is careful and sweet. Afterwards, R rests her cheek against Billie’s and they stay like that for a moment.

“What’s your actual name?” Billie asks. If R is willing to tell her that, they really do have a basis of mutual trust.

For a moment R hesitates, then she leans far enough away to meet Billie’s eyes. “Raphael.”

Billie blinks. Okay, she hasn’t expected that. Maybe she should have, but aren’t you supposed to change your name when you transition or something?

“Don’t say it,” Raphael says.

Billie blinks again. “What?”

Raphael furrows her brows like she thinks Billie should know what she means. “That it’s a guy’s name.”

“I wasn’t …” Well, technically she had been thinking just that.

Raphael clicks her tongue, but smiles. “Raphael is an angel’s name. Angels aren’t supposed to have a gender. It’s not my fault that most people just assume that male is the default.”

That makes Billie huff a laugh. “Good point. An angel’s name fits you anyway.”

Raphael rolls her eyes. “That was cheesy.”

It probably was, at least a little bit. “No, have you ever read the bible? Angels aren’t just beautiful, they’re scary as hell.”

It’s always so nice to hear Raphael laugh. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“It was intended as one.”

Finally, reluctantly Raphael takes a step back. “We shouldn’t make Adam worry.”

No, they probably shouldn’t, but Billie thinks he could’ve waited a bit longer.

* * *

Adam could’ve sworn he has seen the woman that is waiting next to Billie before, when he steps around the corner of the hospital and onto the parking lot. They’re both leaning against a car he’s never seen before, and with both of them mostly dressed in black (Billie her usual long coat, the other woman in a very well fitted suit), it looks like he has acquired a set of very unusual bodyguards or something like that.

Nurse Brian, whose shift ended the same as Adam’s, whistles appreciatively. “Don’t tell me you get two hot chicks waiting for you today, bro! One wasn’t enough anymore?”

Billie choses this moment to nod towards him in greeting. Adam waves back. “How often does Billie have to tell you that she’s a lesbian for it to sink in?” Of course Brian had tried to hit on her before. After making sure that she wasn’t Adam’s girlfriend, because ‘a bro doesn’t encroach on another bro’s territory’, which is kind of considerate in a misogynistic way.

“Wait,” Brian says. “Did she bring a lesbian friend? You got two hot lesbian chicks waiting for you? Lucky you, bro!”

“I don’t think you know what lesbian actually means.”

But Brian just slaps him on the back, and walks away winking and giving him two thumbs up. Adam rolls his eyes.

When Adam walks over to Billie and her friend, the corners of her mouth are twitching in a way that tells him that she’s trying not to laugh. “Your ‘bro’ seemed very happy for you.”

Adam huffs. “You don’t want to know why.”

She grins. “I figured.” Then she turns serious and points to her companion. “This is Raphael.”

So, the mysterious R probably. “Oh, you learned her name at the second date already?” Adam snarks. “That was fast.” Okay, that may have been mean, but for him to like her, she first has to prove that she actually has good intentions.

“Play nice, will you?” Billie chides.

“I’m not the one killing people,” Adam reminds her.

Raphael rolls her eyes. “Do you want to spend some more time being proud of your moral high ground or do you want some answers?”

Okay, he may be able to like her. Eventually. “Does that involve getting into your car?” He asks anyway.

“I’m afraid it does. Some things should not be discussed in public.”

Adam pulls a face.

“Adam,” Billie says. “If she wanted to kill us, she could’ve killed us about five times by now.”

Adam knows that, of course, but this is more a matter of principle. He won’t be pushed around by people who think they can do whatever they want.

“Maybe I can offer a compromise.” Very slowly, Raphael reaches inside her suit jacket. She’s going to pull a gun, isn’t she? Yes, she is. Adam’s opinion of her plummets, at least until she flips it and offers it to him hilt first. “Ever used one?”

Adam nods reluctantly. Sam had shown him once.

“Well, then take it. If you don’t like what I’m doing, use it.” She pauses, looks him up and down for a moment as if trying to assess him. “Of course you’d have to give up your moral high ground then.”

With a huff, Adam waves the offered weapon away. The gesture actually makes him feel a bit better about the situation, but he won’t start shooting people, that’s for sure. “Billie would kill me, if I shot you.”

“Listen,” Billie says. “I may be falling in love right now, but that doesn’t mean that I’m blindly trusting her.” She’s watching the whole thing with arms crossed in front of her, leaning against the car.

Raphael throws her a look that’s kind of proud and slightly dreamy. Billie is apparently not the only falling in love. Adam rolls his eyes. The things he puts up with so his friends can be happy.

Now Billie extends a hand towards Raphael, though. “You know, you can hand me that gun, and the rest of the weapons you’re probably carrying too. I think it would really help the trust building, if we have this conversation with you being unarmed.”

At least she actually can still think straight.

Raphael shoots her a less dreamy look, but hands her the gun, then pulls another one from somewhere behind her back, and then a small knife from her sleeve.

Adam can’t help it, he has to laugh. “If you pull a shotgun from somewhere next …”

The corners of Raphael’s mouth twitch. “Will you get in the car now?”

They do.

* * *

They don’t drive far and stay in the nice parts of town. In the end they park in front of a house that looks like an old factory hall, but that seems to be used as a hip apartment building now. Raphael takes them up to a loft apartment, offers them seats on a very comfy couch and drinks from the fridge of a kitchen that looks like it’s never used.

Then Adam learns that both of his brothers got themselves high ranking mafia boyfriends and that’s basically the reason he and Billie are still breathing.

“Fucking hell,” he mutters.

Billie takes a long drink from the beer she had been offered.

Raphael leans forward. “Listen,” she says. “My brother, Sam’s boyfriend, is in prison right now, and the guards that are dropping are out for his life. We don’t want that to happen, so there’ll be one more dead body by tomorrow. And I have to be sure that none of you will draw attention to it. It’ll look like an accident, you’ll handle it like an accident, everybody is happy.”

And with that they’re at the part that Adam really doesn’t like again. People telling him what he should do. “What did your brother do that they want to kill him?”

Raphael sighs and doesn’t look happy, so that probably means that he won’t like the answer. “Years ago he was tortured by some of those guards while being in prison. And when he had to break someone out recently, he saw the guard mainly responsible, and he …” She shrugs. “... snapped. And he got caught standing over a dead body.”

Damn, Adam really wants to not understand this, but he does. Still, them always having good reasons for what they’re doing is almost too good to be true. “So, you’re nice criminals? Only going for the bad guys? Like Robin Hood or something?”

Raphael leans back and Adam doesn’t miss how with every time she moves she drifts a bit closer to Billie on the couch. “No,” she says. “We try to be reasonable, and we have our standards. That’s it.”

“What are your standards?” Billie asks interested. Adam really wants to know that, too.

Raphael counts them on the fingers of one hand. “No human trafficking. Killing people is always the last option, though it becomes more or less of an option depending on how much we like someone. No stealing of organs people still need. Though we steal them from people that don’t need them any more …”

Adam perks up at that. He knows it’s wrong to disrespect people’s wishes, but when they’re dead and there’s a still perfectly good heart and in the next wing of the hospital is someone waiting for exactly that and he still has to let it rot, because there’s no organ donor card … Yeah, he actually doesn’t mind stealing organs from dead people at all.

For a moment, Raphael thinks, then she adds: “No animal cruelty, curtsy to the wishes of one of my brothers, and therefore no dealing with exotic animals.”

Adam snorts. “That doesn’t leave much.”

Raphael looks him dead in the eye. “It leaves drug deals, smuggling of things that aren’t alive, theft of any kind, cyber crime, forgery of any kind, and of course straight up murder of people we don’t like.”

Okay, yes, that’s an impressive list.

Billie leans back herself and puts an arm on the backrest behind Raphael. She looks kind of relieved, as if she’d expected something worse on the list, but hadn’t dared to ask.

“So …” Adam asks, because he wants to test this. “If I needed a new kidney for a patient that’s been on the waiting list for far too long, I could turn to you?”

“Yes,” Raphael tilts her head to the side a little. “Do you?”

Now, that’s a chance he won’t let pass. Time to test, if Raphael and her people are really as nice as they claim to be. “Actually, yes.” The teenage girl that regularly comes in for dialysis would definitely not complain.

“Send me the specifics and it’ll be done.”

The offhand way Raphael says that makes Adam somewhat giddy. It brings a bit of a power rush. Being a doctor that actually wants to help people means being frustrated with regulations and the terrible health care system quite a lot. Having a way around that is actually nice.

“It comes with a price, though,” Raphael adds.

Of course it does. “Let me guess,” Adam says. “No word about dead or injured prison guards for starters.”

Raphael smiles.

“Anything else?” Adam asks. He kind of expects something else.

“Not for now, but if you want us to help more people, you’ll have to help us out in turn now and then.”

Wait, is this kind of a recruiting talk? Adam isn’t sure, if he wants that, but he still keeps asking. “Like what?”

“Treating suspicious injuries for example.”

Okay, he could probably do that. Shit, he’s going to let himself be recruited, isn’t he? With a ton of good intentions of course. He isn’t sure, if that makes it better.

* * *

They spend some more time talking, asking questions, getting answers, sometimes not getting very clear answers. Eventually, Adam and Raphael start talking about him being on his way to become a doctor, and now it’s Raphael who asks things. Billie has to think of her originally wanting to become a doctor, especially when Raphael gets a slightly sad, but fascinated look.

Finally, Adam decides to go home by himself, which leaves Billie alone with Raphael. She has to admit she has kind of hoped for that. She also feels a lot better now that she has more answers. Part of her had still feared that the people they got into trouble with being actually surprisingly nice is too good to be true and that she’ll discover something about her crush that’ll make her rethink her whole opinion of her. Also knowing how closely Adam’s family is entangled in all of this makes her glad they’d started talking for a whole different reason. Her best friend might not have much to do with his brothers, but ruining everything for them would’ve probably still been hard on him. Especially since they in turn had really tried to keep him out of trouble.

“Can I get my weapons back now?” Raphael asks. That’s something Billie really likes. That she’d really given up her weapons on Billie’s request.

Billie looks over to where her coat is hanging over the backrest of the couch. The guns and the knife are all in different pockets. “You know you can still become a doctor, if you really wanted to,” she says instead of handing anything over. “Give up crime and start a honest life and all that.”

Raphael’s smile looks a little sad. “I won’t leave my family.”

Okay, Billie gets that. She extends a hand to the side and rummages in the pockets of the coats without leaving her place quite close to Raphael. Her fingers find the hilt of the knife and she pulls it out, holds it out to Raphael hilt first. “Your whole family could give up crime.”

“We’d leave a big power vacuum that’d be filled by people that probably don’t have standards at all.” Raphael takes the knife, but doesn’t put it back into wherever in her sleeve she got it from. Instead she puts it on the table.

Billie snorts. “So you’re making tons money with big illegal deals out of the goodness of your heart. So noble of you.”

Raphael’s lips twitch. “Okay, so maybe we’re quite comfortable with living outside the law.”

“I gathered as much by the way you sold it to Adam.”

“Is that a problem?” Raphael tilts her head to the side a little.

Billie thinks about it. Of course laws exist for a reason, but the list Raphael had compiled earlier doesn’t include anything she absolutely can’t forgive. “I think I can live with it. Especially if you use it to help people, too. You made Adam very happy.”

Raphael smiles.

Next is one of the guns. When Raphael gets it back, she checks first, if the safety is still on, then she puts away somewhere behind her back. She’s sitting with her legs half pulled up on the couch now, facing Billie. And Billie can’t resist, she snakes her arm around Raphael’s waist, feeling the hilt of the gun at the small of her back. “Are you really carrying that gangster style? Isn’t that dangerous?”

The other woman scoffs as if even thinking about that offends her. “No, there’s an actual holster there. The other one is here.” She pulls her suit jacket back a little to reveal another holster at her side.

Billie’s hands follow her eyes, and her fingers drift over the soft fabric of the white shirt Raphael is wearing. “So you can’t take the jacket off no matter how hot it gets.”

Raphael throws her a look as if she isn’t sure, if there’s a double meaning in Billie’s words. Finally she says: “Well, I can, if everybody present knows anyway that I’m carrying guns.”

Billie smiles. “Get it off, then.”

Slowly, Raphael complies. Suddenly impatient, Billie helps her to first lose the jacket, then the holster. While she does, she finds the opportunity to “accidentally” brush the underside of Raphael’s left boob with her thumb, and hears her draw a sharp breath. She smiles to herself, and then she suddenly has a gorgeous woman in her lap and meets a hungry kiss half way.

Raphael’s hands find their way under Billie’s shirt, and Billie’s drift towards a very well rounded butt.

A heavy make out session later there’s something poking at Billie’s hip that she’s very much not used to. She looks down at the bulge in Raphael’s pants. “I think, I’ll need some time getting used to that.”

Immediately, Raphael puts a few inches of distance between them. “Take all the time you need. And don’t worry about it for now.”

Shit, she hadn’t intended to make Raphael insecure again. “I’m not worrying!” Billie protests. She is a little bit, though. She’ll have to learn some new tricks and probably make a fool of herself in the beginning.

Raphael cups her face with both hands and kisses her sweetly. “It doesn’t make you less of a lesbian, you know that, right?”

“Of course I know that!” Of course there’s nothing ‘of course’ about it. Probably half of her ex-girlfriends would tell her to hand her lesbian card in and go apply for asylum with the bi squad. But no one is asking them. “I’m not worrying about that.”

“So you are worrying.”

“Smartass. It’s just new to me.”

“I figured. But it’ll be alright.”

It feels kind of wrong that Raphael is the one reassuring her instead of the other way around, but then Raphael kisses her again and Billie loses track of that thought.

Billie fumbles with the buttons of Raphael’s shirt, finds a white lace bra underneath and pushes it up. She hears another sharp intake of breath from Raphael, when Billie’s fingers brush over her nipples. She leans forward, to do the same again with her tongue, and Raphael’s back arches beautifully to give her better access. All worries are forgotten.

A moment later Raphael tugs at Billie’s shirt to get it off. Billie helps as good as she can and then does her best to get completely rid of Raphael’s shirt and bra, too, as quickly as possible. When she shoves the fabric off, her fingers brush the gun again that Raphael had put back into the holster behind her back. As Billie feels around it, Raphael tenses, but she doesn’t stop her, while she figures out that there’s a belt going around Raphael’s waist underneath the hem of her pants. Billie pulls it up, opens it (it works with velcro. And there’s lace on it so it probably looks like a piece of normal underwear, if it peaks out a bit) and puts it aside. “No weapons in bed. Though the lace is a nice touch.”

There’s an amused twinkle in Raphael’s eyes. “Technically, we’re on a couch.”

Billie snorts. “No weapons during sex then.”

“And there I thought that might be a kink of yours, after you commented that my thigh holster was sexy.” Raphael’s amusement carries into her voice, too.

“Already thinking about my kinks?” Billie teases her.

“Well, I’ve been thinking a lot about you in general.”

A spark of sudden joy goes off in Billie’s chest. She leans in for another kiss. “I don’t have any kinks including actual weapons,” she explains after a while. “But now I’m wondering, if your thigh holster has a lace decor, too.”

“I’ll wear it again next time, find out yourself then.” Raphael’s voice has a playful note, and Billie loves that. She likes it better than her usual seriousness. 

“I’d like that,” Billie says. It comes out a bit distracted, because Raphael’s hands drift over her belly, lower and lower until they land on the button of her pants.

Now it’s Billie who tenses just a little bit. “We need a condom, I guess.” Things she never had to worry about before.

“I don’t think we’ll get that far today,” Raphael says. She tilts her head to the side in question, hands still on the button, not doing anything, though. Only when Billie nods, does she open it. Her fingers play with the hem of Billie’s panties, and anticipation sends a shudder through Billie’s body, makes her relax again.

“May I suggest that you just lean back and enjoy?” With that Raphael slowly pushes her hand down Billie’s panties, watching closely for her reaction.

“I think I can manage that,” Billie says with a half smile, voice getting a bit breathy.

It takes Raphael no time to figure out how to make Billie arch off the couch with breathless curses on her lips. And all the while she watches her intently, her dark eyes drinking in everything they see. Billie comes twice, before Raphael finally leans back, looking a bit smug. And as if that isn’t enough, she very slowly and deliberately lifts her fingers to her lips and licks them clean. 

Billie watches with rapt attention. “You know there’s no way I’m not going to repay you for that, do you?”

“You don’t have to–” Raphael starts.

“Oh, I very much want to.” With that Billie reaches out to pull Raphael closer again.

It’s weird at first, wrapping her hand around a dick. But as soon as Raphael really catches on to the fact that Billie’s nervousness stems mostly from not really knowing what to do, she is very good at giving clear instructions. Billie is thankful for that. When Raphael comes, she buries her head in the crook of Billie’s neck and Billie can feel the hint of teeth digging into her skin.

Afterwards, Raphael collapses against her, her head on Billie’s shoulder. Billie cards her fingers through her hair, happiness soaring in her chest.

“I think getting used to it won’t be that hard,” Billie says.

Raphael smiles.


	22. Charity Work

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is a gala and talk about tentacles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay ... uhm ... tentacle porn gets mentioned in this chapter, but there is no actual tentacle porn in this fic.
> 
> Anyway, I hope y'all remember the Men of Letters gala that Sam found an invitation for. Meg and Balthazar are about to infiltrate it.

Meg waits for Balthazar to open the door of the car for her and gracefully takes his hand to allow him to help her get out. While she does so, she looks him up and down. He’s wearing a tux and a bowtie that slightly clash with his cheeky grin. “It’s a shame Clarence is missing this,” she says. By now she’s almost sure her boyfriend has the hots for his best friend, and he definitely would enjoy Balthazar in a tux. Maybe one day he’ll even get over himself and admit it. She sure as hell won’t mind.

Balthazar returns the assessing look. Meg is still getting used to the stiletto heels she’s wearing and her stance may be slightly wobbly, but she knows she’s making a good figure in the long, elegant and tight fitting dress she’s wearing. Balthazar’s grin gets bigger. “I agree. Poor Cassi.” He makes a thoughtful face. “He would have hated the whole event, though.”

While she takes the arm Balthazar offers, Meg looks up the stairs their car has parked in front of and to the huge entrance doors of the place where the charity gala is taking place. A guy in livery asks Balthazar, if they want him to park their car, and the keys get handed over.

“You know, I never got the whole charity gala thing,” Meg says. “Why do you have to feed rich people booze and canapés for them to donate to a good cause?”

“No idea, sweetheart, but if I had to guess, I’d says it’s because if they just donate something in the privacy of their own home, no one would see how generous they are.”

Meg has to admit that sounds like a plausible theory. She allows Balthazar to lead her up the stairs, they show their stolen invitation to another guy in livery and then they step through. Well, that was easy.

They walk through a marble hallway and through another set of doors, and for a moment, they stop there.

They’ve come out on the gallery of some kind of ballroom. There’s a big chandelier hanging in the middle of it, and underneath it people in tuxes and sparkling dresses are standing and talking. At one side of the room Meg can see several tables that form a buffet, and on the other side a the room an orchestra is tuning their instruments.

Next to her, Balthazar whistles impressed. “I get the feeling this is going to be fun.”

Meg laughs. “I hate to to be a killjoy, but remember, we’re here for work and we’re on enemy territory. So stay close to me so I can protect your cute ass just in case we get busted.”

“You know I have military training, too, do you?” Balthazar doesn’t look particularly offended, though. While they talk, they slowly walk towards the stairs that lead down into the ballroom.

“I don’t see any military weapons around and this isn’t a war zone, soldier boy. Leave this to me,” Meg says. “Your job is to draw people’s attention away from me while I do my job.”

“Don’t worry.” And there’s the cheeky grin again that she likes about him. “I’m good at drawing attention.”

Meg believes that at once.

* * *

It doesn’t take long until Balthazar is surrounded by a gaggle of beautiful women that laugh at his jokes and swoon when he calls them by french pet names. Meg resist rolling her eyes, hangs on his arm with a probably very bored expression and lets her eyes wander.

By the time someone is giving a speech about the charity organization they’re all going to donate to today, she spots judge Bevell’s blond head in the crowd. She’s looking around as if she’s searching for someone, too.

Meg avoids eye contact and watches her from the corner of her eye while she nudges Balthazar.

“You have to excuse me, ladies!” He says at once. “There’s someone I absolutely have to talk to.”

That gets him a couple of disappointed awwws, but smiling and waving he pulls Meg away from his group of admirers. “Where to?” He whispers as soon as they’re out of earshot. Meg is impressed. So he hasn’t even seen Bevell himself, he absolutely trusts that she has a plan. That’s a really nice change to certain other guys she’s worked with recently.

“By the buffet,” she whispers back. “See the blond uptight looking woman? Pick someone close to her to start a conversation. I want to listen to what she’s talking about.”

Promptly, Balthazar makes a beeline for a pale guy who looks pretty uncomfortable in his tux. He’s currently surly staring into a glass of champagne that’s almost empty already. Not the kind of target Meg would’ve picked, but Balthazar seems to know what he’s doing.

“Oh my god!” Balthazar starts, beaming at the man. “Aren’t you ...?” He nudges her. “Darling, I’m sure it’s him!”

The man looks at them through narrowed eyes, and Meg does her best to smile sweetly. She’s pretty sure that Balthazar has no idea who this guy is, but most people here are probably some kind of celebrity. Not famous enough to be annoyed by being noticed, but famous enough to make it believable that they’re getting recognized.

“This,” Balthazar goes on, still talking to Meg, “is a true artist, darling, I’m telling you!”

Nice move. The guy starts smiling now, though he looks a bit confused doing so. “You’ve seen Princess Asuka?”

“If I’ve seen it?” Balthazar asks, completely the excited fanboy now. “I’ve celebrated it! I’ve watched it so many times in the hopes of figuring out your secret. Please, you have to tell me. How did you do it?”

The guy blinks, now really confused. “Dude, we’re talking about tentacle p…” He looks at Meg. “I mean erotica here.”

Meg has to bite the inside of her cheek to not start laughing. She’ll definitely tease Balthazar about this later.

She also expects him to break character at least for a second, but he just keeps smiling. “Of course, we are, my friend. But that’s the art of it, isn’t it? You taking a genre like that and turning it into something so profound!”

Mr. tentacle porn writer really perks up now. “You think so?”

“Absolutely! Absolutely!” Balthazar assures him.

While he and his new friend chat about monster fucking, Meg tunes out and focuses on Toni Bevell instead who’s standing just a few feet from her and currently talking to a dark haired man who sounds very British.

“Ah yes,” he says. “Yes, it was absolutely right not to ask about it in our correspondence.”

“Of course,” she says. “But I want this resolved as quickly as possible. My position is at stake here! What are you doing to get this nuisance out of my hair?”

Of course she has told the Men of Letters about the blackmail.

“I completely understand your concerns,” the guy says. “We shouldn’t discuss this any further in public, though.” He nods towards a door at the back of the hall. “Come.”

Shit. Meg puts a hand on Balthazar’s shoulder and leans close to his ear. “I’m going to follow him. Stay here. I’ll send you a message, if I need a distraction.”

Balthazar smiles. “Of course, dear.” Then he gets back to his discussion.

Meg wanders towards the buffet and waits until Bevell and company are almost at the door. Then she follows them. She waits until none of the people in livery are close, then she opens the door and slips through.

She can see them at the end of a long hallway, stepping into a room. As soon as they’re out of sight, she follows. Just a bit later, she has her ear pressed against the wood of a door and prays that no one will walk past here any time soon.

On the other side of the door, glass clinks. “Thank you, Mr. Ketch.”

The guy – Kecht apparently – doesn’t react instead, he sounds angry when he speaks again. “You’re out of line.”

“Oh, well, excuse me! But I started working for you, because you told me it was safe and no one would ever know. And now I’m blackmailed, and you’re telling me you still don’t even know who’s behind this?”

Ketch huffs. “I don’t know _yet_. I’m working on it. It’s obvious that this Nick Shurley is more important than he seems.”

“So, what am I supposed to do at his next court date? It’s not that long any more.”

“Technically, there’s nothing against just ruling in his favor. It looks like dear Nick’s friends are providing everything you need to make it a convincing case, if no one’s looking too closely.”

Meg fights down the urge to fist pump. That’s good news at least. Michael will be happy for a change. Or at least not displeased and frowny.

“And you’re okay with just giving in?” Bevell asks.

“Of course not,” Ketch says. “But we can let them have this while we work on finding them and making sure they’ll never bother us ever again.”

Okay, that’s less good.

“So, just to be clear. If you don’t have anything on them until the court date, I’ll do what they want.”

“Yes. And don’t worry about the rest. Now, I believe we also have to talk about the agenda for the next few months.”

They talk about a few court cases and how judge Bevell has to rule in them. Meg tries to remember the details even though all the names don’t mean anything to her. Then, before the conversation comes to an end, she slips away.

She’s almost at the door to the ballroom again, when a door opens behind her. She tenses, but keeps her steps steady. Running will just make her suspicious.

“Hey you!” Ketch calls behind her.

Meg slows down, puts one hand on the handle of the door, before she turns. “Me?”

“Yes.” Ketch comes closer in long strides. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

“Oh!” Meg goes for a confused smile and hopes it won’t look sarcastic just for once. “I’m sorry! I was looking for the bathroom!”

“That’s the door to the right side of the room.” He looks at her through narrowed eyes. “I don’t think I’ve seen you to one of these events before.”

“Oh, I’m just a plus one. Very nice party you have here.” Another smile.

“Really? Who did you come here with?”

Meg is about to say the name on their invitation, but that one belongs to a woman, and she doesn’t want to imply that a woman this Ketch guy might know brought a girlfriend. He definitely would remember that. “Oh … uhm …” She starts instead. “The wonderful mind behind Princess Asuka. Don’t know, if you know him.” The Men of Letters probably don’t have that much interest in someone writing tentacle porn, do they? “He said I have the potential to be a star.”

Hopefully, this will do the trick, because Meg really starts to annoy herself by now.

“Oh, does he now?” For a moment, Ketch looks like he’s going to say some more, but then he seems to think better of it. Not the guy to warn a young hopeful actress what kind of movie she’s going to star in. Well, thanks a lot. “Well, don’t make me keep you.”

“Thanks for the directions.” She opens the door and steps back into the ballroom.

When she spots Balthazar, he’s not chatting with the creator of Princess Asuka anymore, but instead flirting with a guy that has young hopeful actor written all over his face. Meg walks up to them, and puts an arm around Balthazar. “Darling,” she says, “I’m afraid something’s come up.”

Actor guy checks her out and seems to like what he sees. Then he turns back to Balthazar again and sends him a flirty look. “Well, you have my number. Call me?”

Balthazar grins. “Oh, I definitely will.”

Good thing at least one of them had fun today.

* * *

When Dean gets to Michael’s office after checking on the bar, Meg is just coming out. This can be good or bad. “Please tell me you brought good news.”

She shrugs. “Well, he isn’t in a murderous mood right now.”

That doesn’t sound too promising. When Dean steps in, he finds his boyfriend leaned back in his chair, staring at some point on the far wall. He absentmindedly throws a pen in the air and catches it again, making it flip in the air. “Close the door.”

Dean does. “All good?”

“I think you were right,” Michael says instead of an answer. The pen goes up and down again.

“I was?” It’s not that Dean doesn’t like hearing that, he just doesn’t remember what he was right about.

“I have to talk to the Men of Letters before they catch on to us,” Michael explains. “Would you mind, if I put all the blame for the blackmail on your brother?”

“Depends,” Dean says carefully.

“He won’t come to any harm. I’ll just tell them he acted of his own volition and was punished for it.”

That doesn’t sound too bad. And Dean can see what Michael is doing. Make it look like they never even thought about picking a fight with the Men of Letters. That’ll make them more friendly. “Fine by me.”

The pen goes up again. “It’s still way too close to begging them to do us a favor for my liking.”

“There’s no shame in asking for something.”

Michael catches the pen again without looking. “There’s always a price, though.”


	23. Hamlet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Sam reads Shakespeare among other things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update! I kinda forgot is was Saturday.
> 
> By the way: The end of this story might come a bit fast. I'm basically in the middle of turning my life upside down and there are some minor storylines and little things that I mostly dropped to be able to finish this at all.

The prison library definitely lacks in interesting reading material. Now Sam feels double as bad for sending some of the more minor offenders into a situation like this, when he still was a cop. No one deserves to be locked up with a collection of bad romance novels, some coloring books, one dictionary, some very outdated, very general self help books, _American Psycho_ of all novels, and a copy of _Hamlet_ , which he is reading right now, because of lack of alternatives.

It’s not that he doesn’t like Shakespeare, it’s just …

“They all die in the end,” Lucifer interrupts his reading. He’s pacing again. Lucifer pacing in their cell like a caged tiger is the most nerve-wrecking thing Sam has ever witnessed and it makes him want to jump out of his skin. But he has discovered that him staying calm is the best thing he can do. And while staying calm has been completely impossible while he had still been outside, doing so for Lucifer’s sake is surprisingly easy. Damn Michael for being right about that.

“I know how it ends,” Sam murmurs.

Lucifer stops in front of their bunk bed and leans against the railing. That way he’s eye level with Sam, who’s lying on the top bunk. “Why are you reading it then?”

Sam rolls his eyes. “Because it’s the only good book in the whole damn library, and reading is a calming activity. You should try it.”

“Well, apparently you have the only good book in the whole damn library right now, so what do you suppose I read?” There’s a hint of playfulness in Lucifer’s voice, which Sam counts as a minor victory.

He smiles. “I’d be willing to share. There’s a lot of murder in _Hamlet_ , you might like it.”

Lucifer pulls a face. “It’s the stupid kind of murder.” He pushes away from the railing of the bed and straightens up. “Seriously, before you kill someone, you make sure it’s the right person and that they actually did what you want to kill them for. You don’t just stab someone through a curtain, because you think you’re so fucking smart and know who’s hiding there.”

“Oh, so you’ve read Shakespeare?” Sam didn’t quite expect that. He’s never seen his boyfriend with a book before.

“I got into a quoting contest with Gabe once,” Lucifer grumbles.

That makes Sam grin. He can picture it. “Quote something,” he prompts. Whatever works as a distraction.

A loud bang at the door makes him flinch. “Back from the door!” comes the shout from the other side. “Get to the back wall, back to me!”

That’s the other thing Sam really hates about prison. You can’t even finish a conversation with your boyfriend in peace. He groans and climbs out of the bed while Lucifer already moves to the back of the cell. When he glances towards the door, he can see a face in the small barred window there. He recognizes the scars. Asmodeus. That can only mean trouble.

“Hands against the wall!”

Sam complies, as does Lucifer next to him. His boyfriend rolls his eyes as if he isn’t taking this seriously, but his whole posture is tense now.

Only now does Asmodeus step into the cell. He’s alone, which is a bad thing, too, because usually no guard steps into Lucifer’s cell without backup.

He comes closer, first pats Sam down pretty sloppily, then does the same a lot more thoroughly with Lucifer. “I know you have something to do with Eugene’s death,” he hisses while he does so. So Eugene Ross-Leming is dead now? That leaves Asmodeus the last on the list.

“I think I have a pretty good alibi,” Lucifer answers unconcerned.

That earns him a shove that almost makes his face connect with the wall. “Don’t screw with me! I know you have friends outside! And no one just hits their head on a kitchen cabinet to fall over and drown in their own sink!”

“That how he went?” Lucifer asks. “What a pity. You can never be too careful in your own home. Freak household accidents happen all the time.”

Another shove, this time Lucifer’s forehead actually does hit the wall, and Lucifer curses.

“You think this is funny, eh?” Asmodeus says. “Let’s see how funny you find it, when you’re locked up somewhere only I know of. You know how easy it is to ‘lose’ a prisoner for a while? I’ll put you into solitary, and then at night I’ll get you and put you somewhere else. I still have enough friends here that no one will bother to notice that your solitary cell is empty.”

Shit, shit, shit, shit! Sam knows what Asmodeus is trying to do. If he hides away Lucifer like this there’s no way the other archangels can just kill him. Because then no one will know where Lucifer is and he’ll just die somewhere locked in darkness.

The thought is so unbearable that Sam can’t breathe for a moment. When Asmodeus pulls Lucifer’s hands behind his back, Sam acts without thinking. He turns and pushes the guard away from Lucifer. It’s probably stupid. Or maybe not. If he doesn’t act, Lucifer will most likely panic in a moment and kill Asmodeus. Then they’ll never get him out. Sam on the other hand can afford getting in a bit of trouble. And he won’t kill anyone.

He steps between Lucifer and Asmodeus. “Get away from him!”

Asmodeus reaches for his gun, but it’s just an automatic gesture. He’s too busy staring at Sam in surprise. “Oh, look who got Stockholm syndrome.” Then: “Step aside.”

“No,” Sam says. If there’s a ruckus more guards will be coming, and just maybe there’ll be one who isn’t on Asmodeus’ side and who’ll put a stop to this.

Asmodeus stares at him as if he is an especially weird bug. “Making trouble won’t help you. Everyone here liked Alistair. Step aside or you’ll take Nick’s place.”

Okay, maybe that works, too. That way at least Lucifer won’t get locked up in some hole, and Dean can come and ask for Sam and raise hell as soon as it turns out they have ‘misplaced’ his brother. The Archangels won’t have to get more directly involved. Sam may be in here a bit longer than expected but they’ll get him out eventually as soon as Lucifer is safe. “Sure,” he says. “Sounds like fun.”

“Sam!” Lucifer grabs his shoulder. “He isn’t joking!”

Now Asmodeus looks from Sam to Lucifer and back. Slowly, a grin spreads on his face. “You really like your new toy, don’t you, Nicky?”

Yes, that he learns about that was probably to be expected, but right now it might as well help Sam get what he wants.

“Go fuck yourself, Asmodeus,” Lucifer replies.

“Now, that wasn’t nice.” Asmodeus’ grin is firmly in place now. “I think I’ll take away your toy until you learn some manners.” He looks at Sam. “If you really want to take his place, come here.”

At least this is working. It’s still basically a disaster, but at least Lucifer will be mostly fine. Sam turns towards his boyfriend. “It’s fine,” he says. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

The last few days he’d been happy, when he saw a bit of light in Lucifer eyes, but now they’re blazing with nothing but rage. “I’ll make sure you can say hello to your friends in hell soon enough, Asmodeus,” he says.

“Listen!” Sam hisses and draws Lucifer’s attention to him. “It’ll be fine. Please, let me do this. Please, trust me!”

The rage in Lucifer’s eyes dims down to something cold and sharp. He takes a step back until his back hits the wall.

While Sam steps towards Asmodeus, the guard laughs. “Nicky, be a good boy and tell your friends, nothing bad will come to Sammy here as long as they leave me alone. And as long as you behave, of course.”

Lucifer doesn’t say anything. He just stares at Asmodeus, muscles in his jaw working. But he stays where he is just as Sam had asked him. It’s something good Sam clings to as he’s led away. Lucifer really trusts his judgement.


	24. Men of Letters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dean does some negotiating and Adam gets closer to the family business.

Sasha clears his throat when Adam enters Dean’s bar, accompanied by that Ketch guy. It had taken a lot of convincing, but in the end Michael had agreed that he can’t conduct the talk with the Men of Letters personally, if he still wants the involvement of the Archangels in all this to be a secret. Dean had offered to act as a middle man, since he’s probably on the Men of Letters’ watchlist anyway due to him being related to Sam and Adam. In the end Michael had agreed to that mostly because apparently something else had come up this morning. And only provided Sasha was there to to keep an eye on him and intervene in case of Dean fucking up.

Dean tries not to feel a bit butthurt about the latter. Yes, okay, he’s new to all of this and his brother had just screwed up, so Michael is probably right to have someone with more experience tag along. And giving Dean the chance to prove himself, even though there will be a safety net, means Michael kinda likes the idea of Dean getting more involved. So that’s nice. Also, it gives Dean the opportunity to actually do something regarding Sam. Being babysat still hurts his pride a little.

Arthur Ketch really looks like a cheap James Bond knockoff, but since Michael and Raphael had made suits a common occurrence in _Winchester’s Bar and Karaoke_ , no one seems to take notice.

Adam strides right towards the bar, while Ketch lingers at the entrance a bit as if he expects a trap. Dean’s little brother greets him with a bitchface. “I hope this doesn’t lead to more trouble,” he says in a low voice.

“You’re the one who had to snoop around or you wouldn’t even know about any of this,” Dean gives back.

“Would’ve liked that, wouldn’t you?” Adam says. Seriously, is he always that bitchy or only when dealing with Dean?

“Well, I like to know my brothers are safe.” Dean has to fight to keep his voice level.

That makes Adam’s bitchface intensify. “It’s not your job to keep me safe!”

Oh that’s it. Dean leans over the bar and lowers his voice to an angry hiss. “Listen, you little spoiled brat! Dad didn’t keep you out of the criminal life just for me to still drag you in. We needed you and your friend to make the contact, but he’d whoop my ass, if he knew about this! So just for once, don’t make my job more difficult!”

Sasha clears his throat again, and Dean looks up to see Ketch finally approach.

“Kevin,” he calls, “take over for me.”

Kevin looks between him, Adam and Ketch, but doesn’t say anything and just nods. Good kid.

Then Dean turns back to Adam. “Thanks, you did your part. Go home.”

Adam scoffs. “I’m staying until I know what came out of this.”

Oh, hell. Dean doesn’t have time to deal with this right now. “Fine, whatever. Kevin, drinks for my brother are on the house.”

With that he motions for Ketch to follow him and heads towards the back rooms of the bar.

* * *

When Sasha steps into the room after them, Ketch looks alarmed for a moment.

“My bodyguard,” Dean explains.

That makes the brit look him up and down with a bit of disdain, but in the end he just says: “I assure you you won’t need a bodyguard.”

“Happy to hear that,” Sasha says while he takes position next to the door. “I like boring jobs, if you get what I’m saying.”

That makes Ketch laugh and he takes the seat Dean offers him. “I gather you have an offer to make?” He says.

Dean nods and takes his own seat opposite of Ketch. Then he starts the speech Michael has made him learn by heart. “First I have to apologize for my brother Sam. He wasn’t authorized to act like he did. He was supposed to only look for information so we could decide how to approach you best. Like you’ve been doing, too, the past few days, eh?” Okay, that hadn’t been part of the speech, but Dean thinks it fits.

“So you sent your brother to jail for misbehavior?” Ketch asks interested.

Well informed, those Men of Letters guys. Dean shrugs. “Basically.”

That gets him a thin smile from Ketch. “I like that. Swift dealing with disobedience. You made the guards lock him up in solitary, too?”

What the fucking hell is that supposed to mean? Sam’s supposed to be with Lucifer! Dean has to fight to keep his face impassive. He thinks back to this morning, when Michael had looked so worried, but had only said he’ll tell him later and instead finally given in about him dealing with the Men of Letters. Sly bastard. His boyfriend will have some explaining to do.

“What do you know about that?” Dean does his best to act like he already knew, while at the same time fishing for more information.

“You’re not the only one who can place people in prison to keep an eye on things.” Ketch sounds way too smug about it. 

“What else do your sources tell you?” Dean asks. Behind him, Sasha clears his throat again, probably to tell him to concentrate on the matter of hand, but Dean ignores him. The thought of Sammy being in solitary makes it hard to focus.

Ketch shrugs. “That a guard called Asmodeus is convinced friends of Nick Shurley are responsible for all the ‘accidents’ that have befallen some of the other guards.” The fucker actually makes air quotes with his fingers around the word ‘accidents’. 

Fuck. Okay, but this had to be the thing Michael was worried about this morning. So he’s working on it. Dean has to trust him. He has to calm down. And if he concentrates on getting Lucifer out, that means helping Sam, too. 

“No idea what makes him think that,” Dean says with a smile that makes it clear that he absolutely has an idea. Behind him, he can almost feel Sasha relax.

Ketch chuckles. “So I gather you’re really keen on getting that Nick Shurley fella out of prison. And you thought you could achieve that by blackmailing judge Bevell.”

“That’s what Sammy thought,” Dean corrects. He can do this. The sooner he gets this wrapped up, the sooner he can ask Michael what the fuck is happening. So he returns to the prepared text. “We get that we’re encroaching in your territory there, so we hope you accept our apology and maybe we can come to an agreement instead. It doesn’t hurt you, if the judge rules in Nick’s favor. And we can do you a favor in return. Everybody is happy.”

Arthur Ketch lifts an eyebrow in a way that says that he isn’t completely avers to this idea. “What kind of favor?”

Good, now he only has to be convincing enough. Dean takes the sheets of papers that have been lying prepared on the table and pushes them towards Ketch. Gabriel had worked hard on this and called in a few favors for it.

“Looks like you have some trouble with a gang that’s been ruining the neighborhood for one of your building projects. We can deal with that for you.”

Now Ketch lifts both eyebrows. “The police couldn’t.”

“Well, the police has to at least pretend to act according to the law, don’t they?” Dean feels a bit bad for the people in that gang. Apparently the Archangels had left them alone so far, because they keep their heads down and only deal in low level shit the Archangels don’t even bother with. Probably mostly good kids. Well, apart from them picking pockets and breaking into shops now and then, but money has to come from somewhere, if you want to live. Michael has promised to look into which of them can be recruited or at least be scared into moving, before moving in for an actual kill strike.

For a moment, the silence stretches while Ketch looks over the papers. “Good research work,” he says finally.

“So, we have a deal?” Dean asks.

A moment later, then Ketch nods. “We have a deal. Judge Bevell will rule in Nick Shurley’s favor, but if you don’t keep your end of the bargain, he’ll be back inside in no time, and we’ll have your bar closed for health regulation offences on top of it.”

Oh, that arrogant fucker! Dean scowls at him. He hears Sasha move behind him, and a moment later a big hand lands on his shoulder. “Pleasure doing business with you,” Sasha says.

“The pleasure is all mine.” Dean would’ve really like to punch Ketch for the smile he’s sporting now.

* * *

After Ketch is gone, Sasha steps next to Dean by the door of the back room and pats his shoulder. “Thought you’d fuck up for a moment, but you pulled it together pretty well.”

Dean really doesn’t care much for compliments right now. “What’s up with Sam?” He asks instead.

“No idea,” Sasha says as if it’s not a reason to worry.

“Don’t fuck with me!” Dean turns towards him angrily. “You know just about anything that’s going on. So tell me what you know about Sam!”

“Oy!” Sasha pushes him backwards with no visible effort at all, keeping him at arm’s length. “I still serve the Archangels, not you. If you want to know what’s up, go ask your boyfriend. He actually asked me to bring you to him after you’re done here.”

That gives Dean conflicted emotions. So Michael had planned on telling him as soon as possible, he probably just hadn’t wanted to worry him before the negotiations with Ketch. And yes, Dean gets that, but Michael telling him right away would’ve spared him a nasty fucking surprise. Thanks a lot. Dean pushes past Sasha out of the door. “What are you waiting for then?”

* * *

Adam is still sitting at the bar when Dean steps out into the serving room. He looks up expectantly. Dean really doesn’t have time for this.

“It’s all good,” he says in passing. “Go home.”

Instead, Adam gets up and steps in his way. He’s almost as tall as Dean. “You don’t look like it’s all good.”

Dean takes a deep breath to not snap at his youngest brother. “Sam’s in trouble, I have to –”

“Dean,” Adam interrupts him. “Sam and me are both grown men. You’re not responsible for us or our decisions. No matter what dad said.”

That just proves that the kid doesn’t know shit. “Keeping you safe is my fucking job. Now get outta my way.”

Adam sighs, but steps aside. “Let me know, if I can help.”

When Dean looks at him surprised, he rolls his eyes. “Not because I like you so much, but I kinda like Sam.”

Whatever. Maybe his half-brother’s mostly alright for a spoiled brat.


	25. Did we fight?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there may or may not be a fight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end is near now ;-)

Dean barges into Michael’s office without knocking. He should’ve known not to do that, but by the time he realizes his mistake, there are already three guns pointing at him. Michael didn’t even get up from behind his desk, but his hand is steady. Gabriel is still crouched over a notebook in his lap, gun just kinda casually aiming directly at Dean’s heart. Raphael is the only one who actually looks like she takes an potential threat seriously with the way she’s standing straight behind Gabriel’s chair.

She’s also the first to lower her gun again. Next is Michael, and then Gabriel puts his weapon away in a kind of distracted way.

And it’s hard to keep track of his own thoughts after a little shock like that, but Dean tries. “What happened to Sam?” He asks.

“Asmodeus squirreled him away,” Gabriel answers, now completely focused on his laptop again.

“What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”

“He’s hidden somewhere inside the prison, not an actual cell,” Michael says. “Nothing will happen to him as long as we keep from killing Asmodeus.”

“And we’re working on finding him,” Raphael adds.

Michael points to an empty chair. “Have a seat.”

Wait, so Sammy is not just in solitary, he’s hidden somewhere and only that piece of shit prison guard knows where? Can it get any worse? Dean doesn’t move to sit. “And why didn’t you tell me right away? I had to learn about it from fucking Arthur Ketch!”

He’s vaguely aware of a hissing sound that comes from Gabriel pulling the air in through his teeth. Apparently suddenly the laptop isn’t that fascinating any more.

For a moment, Michael’s eyes flash angrily, then he takes a deep breath. “I apologize for that, but I need you not worried right now.”

It’s something in his voice that makes Dean take notice. Michael has mostly shut down and gone into Godfather mode again, but there’s a bit of tenseness. So far Dean has assumed that Michael had tried to protect him from bad news in a misguided attempt to help him focus on his task that almost backfired badly. Now it occurs to him that Michael might not have told him, because he can’t deal with a worried boyfriend right now. Because he already has a shitton of other things on his plate. Not that it changes the fact that Dean is slightly pissed about this, but it makes it kinda more understandable. And fighting about it right now won’t help Sam anyway.

Dean shoves all his hurt feelings down to deal with later. “Alright,” he says and moves to the chair Michael has pointed to. “What do you got so far?”

While he sits down, he can hear Gabriel exhale. “I had a look at the plans just now.” The younger Archangel clicks something on his laptop. “Asmodeus can’t have smuggled Sam out of prison, and there aren’t many places you can hide a freakishly tall guy like him. It’s either the boiler room or one of those storage rooms here.” He turns his laptop around to show a map on the screen. It probably shows the cellar of Purgatory prison. Gabriel points at a few small rooms. “Cozy, eh?”

“The problem is that we can’t just walk in there to get him out,” Raphael says. “And Lucifer can’t either.”

“I’ve already instructed Naomi to raise hell to get to see her client,” Michael adds. “But Asmodeus can just hide him away again after her visit.”

“But you do got a plan, right, Mike?” Gabriel says. “You had your thinking face on the whole time.”

Dean isn’t sure how Gabriel sees a thinking face in the way Michael just stares ahead as if everything in his line of sight has offended him personally, but he has to admit that Gabriel has known him longer.

“Plan is an exaggeration, I think.” Raphael leans on the backrest of Gabriel’s chair and looks at Michael as if she can read something in his face, too.

“Well, maybe” Gabriel admits. “But he has an idea, I’m telling you.”

Michael doesn’t say anything, just looks from one to the other and then at Dean.

“What’s the idea?” Dean asks after a moment.

Michael sighs and leans forward, elbows on his desk. “No one else knows where Asmodeus is hiding Sam. So they’ll assume he’s in his cell, while Asmodeus moves him around. If Asmodeus should drop dead in the boiler room or wherever he’s hiding Sam, no one will know it was Sam and he can return to his actual cell after he did it, because he’ll have Asmodeus’ keys. We just have to force Asmodeus to keep moving him and make sure Sam has a weapon.”

His baby brother killing someone inside a prison? No way! Dean doesn’t like that at all. “You promised to not make him do anything he might regret later!” He protests.

Michael nods. “I did. I won’t make him, he’ll have to decide for himself. But I’m not sure he’ll regret it.”

“Seriously,” Gabriel says, “that fucker has apparently threatened to squirrel Lucifer away, before Sam had agreed to take his place. And Luci’s doing badly enough in a normal cell. If I were Sam, I’d want to burn him alive.”

That’s a good point, but on the other hand it only means that Sam won’t be able to think straight right now and probably make a stupid decision again. One that he will definitely regret later. Dean wishes he could just march into that prison and demand to get his brother back.

On the _other_ other hand, it looks like they don’t have any other options anyway. Dean’ll just have to deal with his little brother moping about killing yet another man for his boyfriend’s sake. Fuck. He really wishes he’d never pulled Sam out of his respectable citizen cop life. He just keeps failing to protect his little brothers recently.

“Discussing all of this won’t amount to anything, though,” Raphael says, “if we can’t figure out a way to make sure Sam has a weapon. They’ll search him after Naomi’s visits. The best she’ll be able to do is give him a pen or something like that.”

Dean sighs. “He’ll be able to MacGyver something, if you get him enough raw materials.”

That makes Gabriel’s eyes light up. “A paper clip, a rubber band and a few sharp plastic shards? He can hide that in his shoes.”

Raphael nods. “That might work. Does he know how to kill someone with a shiv, though? It’s a bit different than shooting people.”

Are they seriously doubting that Sam knows where to stab someone with a sharp object so that they die? It’s not that Dean is all for this plan, but now he feels kind of offended for Sam’s sake. “If he gets a shot, he won’t mess it up.”

That makes Gabriel snicker. “Hey, Mike, does your boyfriend remind you of someone?”

Michael furrows his brows.

“Seriously?” Gabriel ask. “Am I the only one who remembers that talk you gave – what was her name? Something with an A? Back when we were still doing jobs for her? Before we locked her up for good?” When he only gets blank looks from Michael, he sighs. “Doesn’t ring a bell? Let me remind you.” He straightens up and when he talks again his voice holds more authority. “I promise you, Ma’am, if you send Lucifer after someone, that person is as good as dead.”

“Ah, that.” Michael tilts his head a little. “Didn’t I tell you to stay home while I had that conversation?”

Gabriel shrugs. “Raphe and me followed you.”

Michael looks at Raphael. “You, too?”

His sister gives a little shrug herself. “It was probably Gabriel’s idea.”

Michael rubs his temples. “Of course it probably was.”

“Hey,” Dean says. “It’s nice that you’re sharing childhood memories or whatever. But could we focus?”

Gabriel huffs. “Says the guy who almost started a fight with his boyfriend instead of focusing a few minutes ago.”

“I didn’t start a fight!” Dean protests.

“We didn’t fight!” Michael says at the same time. It warms Dean’s heart a little.

It’s Raphael who gives a little snort. “I’ll go have a talk with Naomi. This should be easy.” She straightens up and turns to leave the room.

Gabriel gets up, too. “I’ll let Crowley know what to tell Luci to get him to keep calm.”

A moment later Dean is alone with Michael. Slowly, his boyfriend gets up and walks around his desk. While he does so, the Godfather mode slowly melts away, and there’s a question in his eyes. “We didn’t fight, did we?”

Well, Dean had been pissed. It’s hard to stay angry, though, confronted with a question like that. “I would’ve preferred, if you’d told me as soon as you knew.”

Michael nods, looks down for a moment, then up again. He opens his mouth as if he’s going to says something, then he closes it again. With a sigh, Dean steps closer. As soon as he’s in reach, Michael pulls him in the rest of the way. “I’m sorry,” he says.

“So, why didn’t you tell me?” Dean is pretty sure an explanation is what Michael had failed to get out just a moment before, and he wants to hear it.

Michael pulls a face, probably not happy about still having to find the right words. “I was trying to deal with the situation and probably would’ve come off as cold. I know you don’t like that. So I thought I’d wait until I have all the information and things have calmed down a bit.” He hesitates, then adds: “Don’t think I’m not sorry for this. I sent him in there.”

Okay, yes, as far as explanations go this is a good one. “I agreed to send him in, remember?” Dean says. “And next time, don’t worry about the delivery, just get the news out. I can deal with it.”

“Fine,” Michael says. “Let’s hope there’s no next time any time soon.”


	26. Boiler Room

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Asmodeus is not quite kentucky fried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really planned on having Gabriel burn Asmodeus, but the story had to be resolved differently in the end. So have bamf Sam instead.

Sam stares down at the shiv he made. It has the handle of a spoon, and he had ripped a few pieces of fabric from his orange overall and used them to fasten a long shard of plastic to it. It had taken a few nights to sharpen the shard by raking it along the wall until it got a nice edge. And by now his feet hurt, because he’s hiding the thing in his shoes every time Asmodeus comes to get him.

Work on the shiv is what kept him from going insane with worry about Lucifer. Asmodeus never tells anything about him.

Sam’s weighting the shiv in his hand. He’ll have to aim well, distract him first maybe, then go for the carotid artery. The thought makes him shudder. He doesn’t want to kill this man, no matter what he did. And he actually understands Asmodeus trying to make sure he doesn’t end the same way his friends did. But then again, if he and his friends hadn’t made trouble in the first place … And now it’s not like Sam has much of a choice.

There’s a knock on the door of the boiler room he’s been locked into. He knows what that means, so he gets up and moves towards the back wall. Even before Asmodeus calls “Get to the back of the room!” he’s already doing exactly that. The chain that goes from one of the pipes to his ankle leaves him just enough room for it. This time he doesn’t hide the shiv in his shoe, though. He hides it in his palm.

“My lawyer again?” He asks, when Asmodeus steps into the room.

“No, your brother this time. Good to know he’s in on this, too,” Asmodeus drawls. “Because don’t think I don’t know what they’re trying to do. Making me move you all the time so I’ll mess up sooner or later. Well, I won’t, trust me on that.” Then he adds: “Hands against the wall!”

Sam sighs and does so, pressing the shiv against the wall with his flat hand. “Listen,” he says. He tried it before, but he has to try one last time. “You can’t hide me away forever. Talk to L–” He catches himself at the last second. “–Nick. Ask him for forgiveness, promise to never harm any inmates ever again. Maybe you can come to an agreement.” It’s not very likely, but it’d make things so much easier.

Asmodeus scoffs, stepping closer at the same time. “Sorry, son, that won’t happen. Did I ever tell you that it was Nicky boy who gave me my scars? I made him pay for it. He really hates me now.” He starts patting Sam down. “Told Alastair way back not to mess with that one, but he just had to. Thought it would be fun to break someone with that much fire. And it kinda was, even though we never really broke him. But you know, there’s half as much joy in stomping on someone who doesn’t even try to get up again.”

Sam feels anger welling up inside him, and he has to will himself to stay still. “Dean already here?” He asks, fighting to keep his tone casual.

“No, son, but he’s on the visitation list for today. You can spend a few hours in your solitary cell. Someone else will pick you up there. But don’t think you won’t go back here, before my shift ends.”

Well, that settles it. No one knows Asmodeus came to fetch him. They think he’s in his cell. This is a perfect opportunity. And he has no other choice.

When Asmodeus starts patting along his arms, Sam pulls his elbow back with force. It connects straight with Asmodeus’ face. The guard curses, stumbles back, hand going to his nose and coming away bloody.

Sam follows, before Asmodeus has time to get over the surprise. He really, really shouldn’t do this. There should be another way. He isn’t a killer. And still his makeshift weapon finds its mark easily. The only thing that saves Asmodeus’ life for a few more seconds it the fact that he stumbles back another step.

Sam bares his teeth and lunges again. He isn’t a killer, but then again, Asmodeus is just an obstacle between him and his boyfriend. He’s a thorn in their side that needs to go.

This time, he grabs the man, slams him against the side of the boiler. Asmodeus screams, when his face comes into contact with the hot metal. His arms flail aimlessly, and Sam uses his whole body to keep him pinned there. With force he rams the plastic shard into the side of his neck.

Asmodeus’ screams die down, and a moment later he goes slack.

Breathing hard, Sam takes a step back, while Asmodeus’ body sinks to the floor. He looks down on his hands, and for a moment he’s surprised by the blood on them. It feels like someone who made so much trouble for Lucifer shouldn’t bleed like a normal human being.

The thought of Lucifer makes him snap out of the post killing haze. He has to make sure this won’t mean more trouble for them. He washes his hands in the cup of water next to the makeshift bed Asmodeus had provided him with. Then he searches for the keys in Asmodeus’ pockets, gets rid of the chain around his ankle. A handkerchief he finds in Asmodeus’ pocket is used to make sure he didn’t leave and fingerprints anywhere. He leaves the wiped down murder weapon next to the body, too. Taking it with him would be too risky. 

But then he remembers the stripe of orange cloth he used to tie the shard to the handle. The stripe that’s missing in his own overall. Cursing, he disassembles the weapon. He’ll have to get rid of this and the overall. There’s blood on it after all. And the blankets of his makeshift bed have to go back to where Asmodeus found them. Good thing Sam has Asmodeus’ keys. It’ll require lots of sneaking around, but he can do it, he has to. So he sets to work.

* * *

It’s not like Lucifer can sleep, so the knock on his door in the middle of the night is just slightly annoying. He kind of hopes for trouble, and he doesn’t even care, if he gets to beat someone up or is the one getting beating up. It’s a good distraction either way.

In one swift movement he rolls out of bed, adrenalin already starting to curse through his body. He expects the usual order to get to the back of the cell. Instead there’s a whisper: “Lucifer!”

He’d recognize that voice anywhere. With two steps he’s at the door, pressing his face against the bars in the little window in the middle of it.

Sam’s smile on the other side of it lights up the whole corridor. 

“Did he hurt you?” Lucifer asks.

Sam’s smile gets wider. “No. And he’s dead.”

Fucking finally! Hopefully the fucker suffered! Lucifer fights the wave of relief he feels, though. He hadn’t been afraid of Asmodeus, the guy had just been insufferable. No need to be that relieved about his death. Instead he distracts himself with the mental picture of Sam stabbing the guard. And that’s not only deeply satisfying, but also kind of hot.

Lucifer grins. “I want all the details about how you did it later.”

“Your idea of dirty talk needs some work.” Sam’s smile stays, though. As always, a bit more fucked up than he likes to admit to himself. Just like Lucifer likes him.

Sam turns away for a moment, as if he’d heard something. “Listen, I have to get back to my solitary cell. I just wanted to let you know. Don’t get into trouble. All’s well. We’ll be out of here soon.”

With that he’s gone.

Lucifer takes a deep breath and steps back from the door. He sits on his bed, back against the wall. He doesn’t sleep, but at least tonight the walls stay put and don’t keep moving closer to crush him.

* * *

It’s a few days later, when Sam is back in their shared cell, that he recounts what happened. Lucifer’s fingers trail along Sam’s naked torso while he talks, providing steady encouragement.

“Did you enjoy it?” Lucifer asks.

Sam gives a huff. “I don’t enjoy killing people!”

“Not even making him pay for locking you up in a hole for days?” Lucifer knows he can’t push the subject too much, if he doesn’t want to make Sam uncomfortable, but maybe he can get a little glimpse at Sam’s dark side, before he gets too close to the line his boyfriend has drawn for things like that.

Indeed Sam opens his eyes that have been half closed, and he looks straight at Lucifer. “I don’t regret it, that’s for sure,” he says.

That’s good enough. Lucifer smiles and leans down for a kiss.

* * *

The guy on Billie’s table is probably kind of good looking, if you’re into older guys. Which Billie isn’t. Obviously. There are two long scars running over his face that are pretty old. New are the burn marks on the left side of the face and the slash at the side of his neck that severed his carotid artery. At least assessing the cause of death is easy enough. Not that she has to do that right now. It’s technically not even her table, because she doesn’t get to have the first look at murder victims usually. She’s here because a certain someone dragged her here in the middle of the night, promising they won’t get caught.

A thorough check of the body reveals nothing too unusual, except for a little bit of fabric in the wound. Billie pulls it out with a pincer and looks at it under a magnifying glass. Orange. Prison overall. “Good thing no one else found that yet.” With that, Billie puts it into a small plastic bag that goes into her pocket, feeling only a slight pang of guilt. “What’s the recent theory on his death?”

She turns to Raphael, who’s leaning against the wall, looking superb in jeans and a leather jacket for a change. Raphael smiles. “They have no idea. It’s a mystery. Thanks for helping us keep it that way.”

Billie puts the pincer away and takes off the gloves that go in another plastic bag that she pockets. Then she walks towards her girlfriend. “I’m only doing this, because you asked so nicely.”

“If I ask nicely again, can I also take you out for a late dinner tonight?”

A jolt of joy goes through Billie’s whole body and eradicates all the guilt she felt before. “You can always do that.”

Raphael pushes away from the wall and tilts her head up for a kiss. “Are you done here now, then?”

Billie nods. “No guarantees, of course, but apart from the piece of fabric that you can burn in a moment I can’t find any incriminating evidence here. Your newbee’s a natural for murder apparently.”

“That’ll make my brother proud.” Raphael takes her hand and lead her towards the door. “On to the fun part of the evening.”

“Are you trying to tell me breaking into government property isn’t fun for you?” Billie asks, trying to sound like she hadn’t been nervous about getting caught the whole time.

“Well, breaking into government property with you is a lot more fun than doing it alone.”

Billie chuckles. This will definitely be an interesting relationship.


	27. Freedom!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Gabriel gets a few things off his chest and Adam gets a present.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There'll be one more chapter and I'm so sorry this one is late again. And that I haven't replied to comments yet. It'll get better again as soon as I got through the shitty stuff happening rn.

Sam is pulled into a bear hug by Dean as soon as he and Lucifer arrive at the Archangel mansion. “Listen, bitch,” Dean says. “If you ever do something that stupid ever again, I’m gonna kick your ass.”

“Jerk,” Sam replies and hugs his brother back.

“I’d be careful, if I were you.” Lucifer peeks over Raphael’s shoulder who’s busy hugging him, while Michael is standing nearby looking pretty happy for his standards. “Sam just offed someone in prison,” Lucifer goes on. “Chances are he’s gonna kick your ass.” He sounds really proud, which gives Sam a little bit of a warm fluttery feeling inside, if he’s honest.

Dean laughs and slaps Sam’s shoulder one last time, before he disentangles himself and looks at Sam with concern. “You alright?” He asks in a low voice.

Sam smiles and nods. He really is surprisingly alright all things considered. They won. Since Asmodeus’ death it had been smooth sailing for them in jail and judge Bevell really had ruled in Lucifer’s favor. He and Sam had gotten out at the same day.

Dean looks at him skeptically for a moment, then he nods.

When Sam looks around, he realizes Gabriel is hanging back uncharacteristically. But now Raphael and Michael step back, and Gabriel and Lucifer end up in front of each other. When Sam sees Gabriel’s face, he holds his breath. Whatever this is, the two of them probably have to work through it by themselves.

Lucifer smiles. “Gabe!”

Gabriel doesn’t say anything for a while. He just glowers. When he finally speaks, it’s in a low and angry voice. “You entitled, self-absorbed asshole!”

Okay, Sam didn’t expect that, and by the look of him Lucifer didn’t either. He furrows his brows and tilts his head.

“It was supposed to be an easy fucking mission!” Gabriel goes on. “And if you wanted revenge on some fucking prison guard, you could’ve just told us years ago! You think we would’ve thought less of you, because you were afraid of that guy?”

“I wasn’t afraid!” Lucifer protests. Even Sam knows it’s a lie. Hell, probably even Dean can see it.

“Oh, cut the crap!” Gabriel hisses. “Lucifer, you’re my brother and I love you, but your fucking pride has to fucking die.”

“I’m –” Lucifer looks to his other two siblings for help.

Raphael just shrugs. “He’s not wrong.”

“I was actually going to give you the same lecture later,” Michael says. He pauses. “With less swearing.”

With a sigh Lucifer turns back to Gabriel. He looks a bit smaller all of a sudden. “I’m sorry,” he says.

“Idiot,” Gabriel says and hugs him. He mumbles something into Lucifer’s shoulder that sounds like “I missed you”. When Lucifer hugs his brother a bit tighter, Sam can’t help but smile.

* * *

Adam watches Bartholomew walking out of the room he just got his cast removed in. Not long and the guy will be able to go back to work. Which means something is going to happen soon. There’s no way around it. And Adam doesn’t approve. That’s why he follows the man towards the parking lot.

He’s almost reached a side exit, when a hand lands on his shoulder. When he turns, he comes face to face with a blond guy with the iciest blue eyes he’s ever seen. The man gives a smile that gives Adam the creeps. “Hi, future brother in law. I think we haven’t met yet.”

And there it is. Adam tries to play it cool, but that doesn’t change the fact that his heart is hammering like mad. He may be protected by the fact that his brothers and his best friend are mad enough to date mafia killers, but that doesn’t make the man he’s facing right now any less dangerous. “Which one are you?” He asks. “Sam’s boyfriend or Dean’s?”

“I’m Lucifer.”

Oh great. So the one who spent some time in prison for making shish kebab out of his tormentor. Charming company. Still, Adam takes a deep breath. “I know why you’re here, but if you absolutely have to do it, at least don’t do it near the hospital. You’ll just traumatize one of the younger night shift nurses, if they find the body.”

That makes Lucifer laugh. “Fair enough,” he says after a moment.

The small victory gives Adam some confidence. “Also, you could just make him lose his job instead.”

For a moment Lucifer considers him like he’s a strange specimen of an alien species. Finally he says: “I guess I could. But he’s an asshole.”

Oh no! Adam won’t let him get away that easily. “I’m pretty sure lots of people would say that about you too with you going around murdering people and all that. I still indirectly helped you, so I think you owe me. And I’m going to be a doctor soon. My job is to save people’s lives without passing any moral judgement and asking who deserves it and who doesn’t. I got the necessity before, but it really isn’t necessary anymore now.”

For a moment he thinks he’s maybe gone too far and that Lucifer might decide that his boyfriend can deal with having one less brother. But then his face gets softer and he looks at Adam curiously.

“I like you,” he says. “Take care.” He pats Adam’s shoulder and walks away.

Almost at the door he turns again. “By the way, Dean’s an idiot, but he really means well. You should give him a chance. Sam would love to see you around more often, too.”

With that he’s gone.

* * *

A few days later Bartholomew is back at the hospital. This time his left knee cap is busted beyond repair and he won’t be able to work as a prison guard any more ever again. He can’t tell who did it. He never saw his attacker’s face. Adam still knows who it was even before he sets to wash all the blood away and discovers several cuts in the lower leg. They spell words. He squints and reads:

HAPPY NOW?

Adam curses under his breath. Thankfully Bartholomew is already half way under and doesn’t register much. Fucking Lucifer!

But at least he did what Adam asked of him. That’s probably something.


	28. Planting things, being happy, the family business

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which an azalea bush gets planted and Adam might or might not regret his life choices.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At least half a year ago someone commented on the barbecue story and said Lucifer should plant an azalea bush over the dead body they buried there. It took me and Lucifer some time to get around to that.
> 
> This is the last chapter. Sorry for the rushed ending and the not very reliable updates. I'll try to get my life in order now and as soon as that's done, I might get around to actually writing again.

Adam has to admit, it’s nice here in the garden of their father’s house. Lucifer is also decidedly less scary now that he’s in dirty jeans and one of Sam’s plaid shirts with the sleeves rolled up and planting an azalea bush in the back of the garden. Apparently that’s something he’d wanted to get around to for a while now. At least that’s what Adam has gathered from comments so far.

“I thought you were going to do roses!” Dean is complaining right now. He’s standing at the barbecue making sure they’ll have something to eat soon.

“I was,” Lucifer says. “But then I remembered that azaleas have roots that basically go to the other side of the earth. So in a few years no one is ever going to dig that up again.”

Wait, that sounds kind of suspicious. It couldn’t be …? Oh, who is Adam kidding? Of course it could be. He turns to Raphael who’s lounging in a sun chair right now half in Billie’s arms. “Please tell me there isn’t a body buried back there.”

Raphael takes a sip from her cocktail. “I could tell you that …”

Oh, for fuck’s sake! Adam sighs. “Why did I even ask?”

“Very good question.” Gabriel walks towards them carrying a few bottles of beer. He hands Billie one and Adam the other. “You really should’ve learned by now not to ask,” he says with a grin.

“I’ll be very surprised, if he ever does.” Michael has the weary older brother act down to perfection. He’s standing near Dean, also watching his younger brother shovel dirt.

Michael was a pretty big surprise. When Adam looks at him, he still has to think of what he read about the murder of Brad Buckner. He hadn’t expected the man who did that to look like a mix between sharp business man and male model. And he certainly hadn’t expected him to wear a colorful wrap around skirt and flip flops when off duty.

On the other hand, though, people who are not afraid to wear that in semi public are probably to be reckoned with. 

Adam turns back towards Lucifer. “Should we help him?” He asks to distract himself from the fact that several highly dangerous people still think he’s too nosy.

“And ruin the show for your brother?” Billie points to where Sam is also lounging in a sun chair and watching his boyfriend work with a content look on his face.

Great, the sex life of his older brothers is something Adam could’ve done without thinking about. Thankfully, he’s interrupted by Lucifer cursing, because the azalea bush has tilted over a bit. Before anyone can do anything, though, Sam gets up. He wraps his arms around Lucifer for a moment, then he goes to hold the bush upright, while his boyfriend secures it in the ground.

It could’ve been the most innocent domestic thing ever, if Adam hadn’t been almost sure by now there is an actual dead body under that bush.

While he watches, Gabriel steps next to him and nudges him. “Regretting getting more involved with your family already?”

“Every day,” Adam answers automatically.

When Gabriel laughs, Adam shrugs. “Well, it could be worse, I guess. At least, they’re happy.”

“Yeah,” Gabriel agrees. “Fucking finally.”

**Author's Note:**

> Comments make me very happy!


End file.
